


Last Stop on the H Train

by crazyassCas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Abuse Flashbacks, Abusive John Winchester, Addiction, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcoholic Dean, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Animal Abuse, Animal Death, Attempted Murder, Borderline Personality Disorder, Cas is the MVP of Boyfriends, Castiel and Drug Use, Child Abuse, Chubby Dean, Cocaine, Dean Has Issues, Dean Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Dean Has Self-Esteem Issues, Dean Has a Dog, Dean Winchester Has Anxiety, Dean Winchester and Feelings, Dean and Drug Use, Dean and Feelings, Dean and Mental Health Issues, Depressed Dean, Depressed Dean Winchester, Depression, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drugs, Drunk John Winchester, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Emotionally Hurt Dean, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends to Lovers, Gun Violence, Hallucinations, Heroin, High School, Homophobia, Homophobic John Winchester, Homophobic Language, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Internalized Homophobia, John Winchester Being an Asshole, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Major Original Character(s), Marijuana, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Minor Character Death, Minor Original Character(s), Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Past Child Abuse, Post-High School, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prostitution, Punk Castiel, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Recreational Drug Use, Resolved Sexual Tension, Schizophrenia, Schizophrenic Dean, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Service Dogs, Sexual Content, Smut, Stoner Castiel, Stoner Dean, Stoner Dean Winchester, Suicidal Dean, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Threats of Violence, Translation Available, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-07-15 21:32:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 85
Words: 265,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7239289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazyassCas/pseuds/crazyassCas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: Dean and Cas are 19 and 18, respectively, and have been best friends for six years. Cas is a senior in high school, but Dean has dropped out. Over the last few weeks, Cas has noticed a huge change in Dean. When he discovers Dean is using heroin, in addition to dealing with an abusive father and worsening mental illness, he struggles to keep Dean afloat while they try to figure out their relationship. This is the story of their first few years together, trying to figure out adulthood as Dean falls apart and Cas has to put him back together again (while maintaining his own sanity).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [Last Stop On The H Train - Version Française](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9400667) by [Hakosaki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hakosaki/pseuds/Hakosaki)



> This is my first attempt at a long fic, so constructive criticism is highly encouraged. :)
> 
> Story completed 12/15/16.  
> Revisions completed 12/23/16
> 
> TAGS AND TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> angst WITH A HAPPY ENDING, destiel, m/m, adultfic (graphic depictions of drug use, adult situations, explicit language, smut), hurt/comfort, angst (so much angst), suicidal thoughts/behavior, graphic violence, homophobia, internalized homophobia, psychological/physical abuse, animal abuse, animal death, alcoholism, addiction, severe mental illness, PTSD and flashbacks, prostitution, non-graphic non-con, rape (one scene), attempted murder (one scene), brief mention of self-harm
> 
> Each chapter has it's own warnings, excluding abuse and drug use, as I figured that was to be expected, given the nature of the story.
> 
> If you have any questions, or just want to discuss the story or any of my other works, feel free to email me at crazyassCas@gmail.com  
> you can also find me on tumblr @ casorderspizza  
> [if you would like to re-blog this on tumblr](http://casorderspizza.tumblr.com/post/146316696019/last-stop-on-the-h-train)
> 
> I hope to hear from you! <3

It was an unusually hot day in Lawrence, Kansas. Waves of heat radiated off of the blacktop and cicadas sung from the trees.

Outside of Lawrence High School sat a black '67 Chevy Impala, waiting to pick up a student. Students walking past the vehicle were wearing as few clothes as possible and still sweating, but the driver sat curled in the fetal position. Despite wearing jeans and a jacket, he was still shivering and drenched in a cold sweat.

Dean jerked up when he heard the passenger door open. "Hey-" Cas started.

Dean looked up and his gaze met the bright blue eyes of his best friend, who peered down at him from beneath the roof of the car. They had been best friends since they were thirteen, when Cas first moved to Lawrence. Dean had barely graduated his junior year, scraping by with the bare minimum, and this year he decided not to return for his senior year. Cas had been disappointed, but there hadn't been much he could do to convince Dean to stay.

As Cas met his eyes, his smile turned into a worried frown. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Dean pulled up his shirt and wiped the sweat off his face. "Yeah, just... not feeling too well. I think I got the flu," he mumbled, avoiding Cas' gaze.

"Looks like it," Cas said, as he dropped himself into the passenger seat, closing the door behind him. "Didn't you just get over the flu? You didn't have to pick me up. I could have taken the bus. Just call me and let me know ahead of time."

"Hey, I said I'd be here, so I'm here." Dean smiled weakly and turned the key in the ignition. As the Impala roared to life, Led Zeppelin flowed from the radio, and he peeled off, the brick building quickly shrinking in the rear view mirror.

Cas rolled down his window and hung his arm out, enjoying the breeze flowing through his hair and trench coat after being stuck in the stuffy school all day.

Dean began to feel uncomfortable with the lack of conversation. He didn't like being alone in his own head. "So..." HIs voice came out rough, so he cleared his throat. "How'd your chemistry lab go?"

Cas smiled. "I know I was very worried about it, but it actually went very well. Some other kid's shit exploded though," he laughed.

Dean let out a small chuckle. He'd never made it to chemistry, but he was sure if he did, he would be the one who's concoctions were exploding.

"Are you sure you're okay, Dean?" Cas inquired. He knew Dean said he had the flu, but he felt like something else was going on. "You... don't seem like yourself lately."

Dean swallowed hard, his throat dry and his tongue thick. "Yeah," he croaked. "Just feel like death is all."

Cas frowned. "I'm sorry. When we get to my house, you can grab some flu medicine out of the cabinet if you want."

Dean knew it wouldn't help, but he nodded anyway. "Thanks."

When they arrived at Cas' a few minutes later, Cas headed into the kitchen as Dean stood in the living room. "Grab the DayQuil out of the upstairs medicine cabinet. I think there's a severe cold and flu one in there," Cas called out from the kitchen. "Want a drink?"

Dean rubbed his eyes. "Uh, yeah, do you have any alcohol?"

In the kitchen, Cas rolled his eyes as he grabbed a glass from the cabinet. "Maybe water would be better."

"Yeah," Dean agreed half-heartedly, heading into the bathroom. He closed the door behind him and locked it. He stood in front of the sink, staring into the mirrored cabinet. He looked like absolute shit. His hair was soaked and plastered to his head with sweat, his underarms were soaked (almost through his jacket), and his eyes were bloodshot. He sighed and ran the tap, splashing his face with cold water. He had been hiding this addiction from Cas for nearly four weeks, but he knew it was only a matter of time before he figured it out. He certainly wasn't stupid; quite the opposite, in fact. As far as Dean was concerned, he had only even made it as far as he had in high school because of Cas' help.

He opened the medicine cabinet and the DayQuil was front and center. His eyes were immediately drawn up to the next shelf, which was lined with small orange bottles. Before he could stop himself, he had scanned the labels. Of course one of them was Percocet, and the bottle was full. It wasn't heroin, but it would help with these damn withdrawal symptoms. Dean clenched his jaw and tore his gaze away. While it was certainly tempting, Cas was his best friend. He couldn't steal from him. He closed the medicine cabinet, splashed his face again, and dried himself off before heading back out into the living room.

Cas was sitting on the couch with Dean's glass of water. "Did you find it?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah," Dean replied. "Thank you."

Cas nodded. "Of course. Would you like to watch TV?"

Dean hesitated. "I appreciate the offer, Cas, but... I should really go home and crash."

Cas nodded. "Yes, you need rest. Thank you again for the ride. Text me when you're feeling better... or if you need anything."

"Will do man, see ya later."

Back in the Impala, Dean cranked up the radio, drove, and thought about Cas. He was such a good friend, always looking out for him and always there when Dean fucked up. Quite frankly, he wasn't sure what he would do without him, or what he even did to deserve having him in his life. His nausea was only getting worse and now he was sick to his stomach thinking about Cas finding out about what he was doing, about how he was hiding it from him...

His mouth started to water and he quickly pulled over onto the side of the road, flung open the door, and started dry heaving. Not much came up, as he hadn't been eating much lately. He leaned back in his seat, wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and grabbed his cell phone. He started frantically texting Crowley, the local supplier. He had been trying to reach him since eleven am, and it was now going on three-thirty. He couldn't stand being dope sick for much longer. Three minutes went by with nothing. He threw his phone and lit a cigarette. This was bullshit, why be a drug dealer if you weren't going to respond?

Another two minutes went by before the familiar ding of a text message alert could be heard on the passenger side floor.

Dean dived down, scrambling to find his phone amid an array of fast food wrappers, empty cigarette packs, and baggies. The text simply read ' _come by_ '.

He threw the car into drive and peeled back out onto the road. A ten minute drive was completed in five and before he knew it, he was again standing in front of the door that had suddenly become a daily sight in his life. He knocked on the door in the pattern he was always told to, and the door opened a crack, with the chain still locked. Once Crowley confirmed it was him, he closed the door, opened the chain, and let Dean in.

Crowley sat down at the table, leaned back in his chair, and fiddled with an unlit cigarette.

"I have twenty dollars," Dean muttered.

Crowley smirked and nodded towards the table. Dean reached into his pocket and rummaged around for a few seconds before withdrawing his hand with a crumpled ball of bills. He stepped forward towards the table and smoothed it all out before dropping a ten dollar bill and two fives onto its surface. Crowley snatched it up with his left hand and tossed a baggie onto the table with his right. "Enjoy," he crooned.

"Thanks, peace!" Dean exclaimed, swiping the baggie off the table and heading out the door. He clambered into the car, threw it in reverse, and peeled out. Ten minutes later, he had just passed Cas' house again and was nearly home when he couldn't wait any longer. The body aches and nausea were just too much. He pulled over, down an old dirt path in the woods he and Cas often walked down together to smoke. He pulled the baggie out of the chest pocket of his jacket, opened it up, and tapped a decent amount of the brown powder on the back of a CD case. It wasn't the same as shooting up, but it would have to do. Looking around quickly, although he knew no one would be back there, he held it up to his face and snorted it. He then threw the case to the floor, but not before scraping any remaining powder together and attempting to snort that as well.

Almost instantly, a wave of warmth and comfort washed over him. He leaned back in his seat, closed his eyes, and enjoyed the ride. In that moment, everything was gone- his fathers abuse, his self-loathing, the guilt of lying to Cas and Sammy.

He was so out of it that he didn't even respond to the knock on his passenger side window.


	2. Chapter 2

Once Dean left, Cas turned off the TV and just sat quietly for a few minutes. He knew something wasn't right. He had suspected something was going on for a few weeks now, as Dean became more distant, but he wasn't sure exactly how to approach the subject. Dean was always either exhausted, sick, or drunk, and when Cas asked if he was alright, Dean brushed him off. Cas tried telling himself things weren't getting worse, but at this point he couldn't deny it to himself anymore. He went into the bathroom and opened up the medicine cabinet. The DayQuil was untouched, still sealed.

He plopped back down on the couch and pulled out his phone. An attempt to reach Dean rang until voicemail picked up. "This is Dean. Leave-"

Cas hung up. Something was going on with Dean and he was going to find out what. For now, though, since he couldn't reach Dean, he decided to go for a walk. He headed into his bedroom and opened the top drawer to reveal an ounce of weed, a bowl, and some rolling papers. He pulled out his chair, sat down, and started breaking up some weed.

He rolled a nice joint, put his bag away, and closed the drawer. Just as he was about to get up, his eye caught a photo on the wall above his desk. It was him and Dean when they were fifteen, taken by Sam, while they were all hanging out in the woods smoking (sans Sam). It was one of Cas' favorite spots, so he decided heading there to smoke his joint was only appropriate. He smiled at a fifteen-year-old stoned Dean. They were both looking up at the camera and smiling. Dean's left arm was around Cas' shoulder, and he held a blunt in his right hand. While he looked younger, and happier, Cas knew that even then, there was pain behind that smile. He just wished Dean would share it with him so that he could help.

He turned away from the photo, headed back to the living room, and shrugged into his trench coat.

As he walked down the sidewalk, he couldn't get Dean off his mind. He wished so badly he could help him, but Dean just wouldn't let him- or anybody- in. He lit the joint and inhaled deeply, contemplating telling Dean how he _really_ felt. It could go one of two ways... He could begin to open up to Cas, or it would make him extremely uncomfortable and it would change their friendship forever. The latter was the last thing Cas wanted, yet he was terrified that would be the outcome, considering Dean was completely straight. He'd never given Cas a reason to believe he was homophobic- Cas was his best friend and openly gay, for fuck's sake- but he did seem to get somewhat uncomfortable whenever the subject came up.

As he approached the mouth of the dirt road, he still couldn't make up his mind. He took a few puffs off of the joint and turned into the woods, feeling everything begin to slow as the weed took effect. As he headed further down the trail, the main road behind him grew smaller and smaller, until he followed the first major curve in the dirt road. He took one last long hit off his joint before tossing the clip to the ground.

He was just about to light a cigarette when he looked up to see the Impala sitting in the middle of the trail. Confused, he quickened his pace, feeling beads of sweat finally forming on his skin. When he reached the car, he knocked on the driver side window.

There was no response from Dean. He was slumped over across the bench seat, mouth agape.

Obviously, Cas panicked. To him it looked like Dean was dead. "Dean?" He knocked louder and when there was still no response, he yanked the door open and grabbed Dean by the front of his jacket, shaking him violently. "Dean!" he yelled. " _Dean!_ "

Dean's eyes fluttered open to Cas shaking him like crazy. He stared at Cas, not really looking at him, and mumbled, "What are you... I'm- I'm fine dude... I'm good." He slowly reached up to rub his face with his hand.

Cas' brows furrowed in anger, and he let go of Dean's jacket and took a step back. "You are most certainly _not_ fine! Is this what has been going on with you lately? You're seriously nodding out in your car?" He shook his head in disbelief. "You only left my house thirty minutes ago... Flu my ass. I knew something was up with you."

Dean continued to stare in Cas' direction, even though it was more like he was looking through him. "I... I know man, and I'm... sorry..." He couldn't even keep his eyes open yet, as he was mid-high when Cas stumbled upon him.

"Move over," Cas ordered.

"W...what?"

Cas rolled his eyes and pushed Dean across the bench seat and positioned himself behind the wheel. Turning the key in the ignition, he blasted the A/C and let the radio play. "You need to come back down to earth, Dean." He reached into one of the many pockets of his trench coat and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. "Here." He lit one and held it out to Dean. "Nicotine. Stimulant."

Dean reached out to grab the cigarette but his hand kind of just went around it. Finally he paused and Cas put it in-between his fingers. "SMOKE," Cas ordered.

Dean took a long drag, and exhaled as slow as possible.

About five minutes had gone by, and Cas had remained silent. Finally, flicking the cigarette butt out the window, Dean spoke. "Cas... for what it's worth, I... I'm sorry."

"What is going on with you Dean? And tell me the truth." Cas narrowed his eyes. He had first realized Dean was drinking when they were fourteen, and he knew he was drinking heavily by sixteen. Now this?

Dean shook his head and let out a small, sad laugh. "I don't know man, I really don't. I guess I'm just always looking for that next high to help me forget shit."

"Forget what, Dean?"

Dean stared out the window, already feeling like he'd said too much. "It's not important."

"Yes, it is, Dean," Cas protested. "If it's bothering you it's clearly important. Please Dean, I only want to help," he pleaded. "We have been friends for six years, you have to know by now that you can tell me anything!"

Dean hesitated. "Listen man, I'm still pretty fucked up... Could you just... take me home? Please? I just... seriously can't talk about any of this right now..." He leaned forward and rubbed his face vigorously with his hands. He didn't want Cas to see that he was about to cry.

"Yeah, sure," Cas said quietly, and he put the car in reverse and started backing down the road.

Five minutes later, they pulled into Dean's driveway. Cas turned off the car, locked her up, and held out the keys. He would've tossed them, but Dean's reflexes weren't exactly the best right now... He dropped them into Dean's hands and took a step forward, towards Dean. "Dean, can we talk tomorrow?" he asked somberly.

Dean swallowed and shoved his keys in his pocket. "Yeah."

"Okay... I'll see you tomorrow." And with that he turned and marched off down the sidewalk.

Dean headed up to his room and flopped down onto the bed. While he was still pretty messed up, thoughts of Cas flew around in his head. He felt like such a piece of shit for avoiding him, avoiding his questions... This hadn't been the first time Cas brought it up. He knew Cas only cared, wanted to help him through it, but he just wasn't ready to tell him- or anyone- his life story. Still nodding off a bit, his thoughts went to picturing what he remembered of Cas being in the car with him. He had gotten in the car, then what happened before he gave Dean that cigarette? He hated these gaps in his memory when he used, but in his opinion it was worth it to bury the other memories. He tried picturing them sitting in the Impala in his head... Cas got in the car, and then what?

_"Cas, I'm still so fucked up, can you take me home?"_

_"Are you sure you don't want to stay here?" Cas asked playfully._

_"Wha-?"_

_Before he knew what was happening, Cas had reached over and was unbuckling his belt._

Dean jerked out of his nod with a gasp. Did that really happen? No, of course not... So then why was he imagining it? He reached down to scratch himself only to realize he was hard. Flopping his head back against the pillow, only a single word escaped his lips before he passed out. " _Fuck._ "


	3. Chapter 3

Cas couldn't go home. He was way too angry and emotional, and he didn't feel like dealing with his parent's questioning, however well-intentioned it may be. He headed back to the trail. It was starting to get late, and the shadows of the trees stretched long and thin. A cool breeze blew though his hair.

He turned the corner where he had found Dean and sat down at the base of a tree. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out an Altoids tin with some weed and a pack of papers. He may have left his ounce at home, but he always had some bud on him.

He rolled another joint and sparked it up. Once it was burning nicely, he took a slow, even drag. Staring at the cherry, he thought about Dean. He thought back to the fear in his heart, the pit in his stomach, when he had found Dean nodding out in the Impala in this very spot not even an hour earlier. What the hell would he have done if he had lost Dean? He took another hit and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the rough bark of the tree. He _had_ to tell Dean. He couldn't keep it to himself anymore. Cas had been in love with him since they were fourteen, and while Dean knew Cas was gay, Cas was too scared to tell him how he really felt because Dean was straight. But after five years, it had to come out. He knew if anything ever happened to Dean, he would regret not being honest with him for the rest of his life. The only question was, would it make things worse for Dean?

He tossed the clip and stood up, stretching his arms above his head and exhaling a long sigh. Tomorrow would be interesting.

* * *

The sun poured through the window onto Dean's face. His eyes opened slowly and he turned away from the light, grumbling. But once awake, cravings already began to infiltrate his thoughts, cramp up his stomach, and tighten his muscles.

He rolled back over and, shielding his eyes from the sun, felt around the floor for his jacket. He checked a few pockets, starting to become a bit panicked, before locating the remainder of the bag he had purchased the night before.

Reaching behind his bed, he grabbed an old spoon, a needle, and a few other necessary items.

Once it was cooked up, he tied a handkerchief around his upper arm, located a vein, and pressed the needle in, biting his lip. He slowly pressed down on the plunger. He was hit with a brief moment of nausea before the feeling the warmth instantly overtook him. Just as he withdrew the needle, his phone went off. It was a text from Cas.

' _Hey, call me when you get up_ '

He stared at the tiny screen on his phone for a few moments as his high crept up on him. He replied as best as he could given the circumstances.

' _come ovr plaase_ '

He wasn't sure why he was telling Cas to come over while he was fucked up, especially since they usually hung out at Cas', but he hit send and flopped back on the bed, giving in to the high.

It seemed like instantly Cas was standing in the doorway of his bedroom. "Hello, Dean."

Dean slowly opened his eyes and turned his head towards the door, where Cas was standing in his trench coat, his arms hanging limply at his sides. Dean frowned, turning his eyes back towards the ceiling. "Please... don't be mad... I'm fucked up... okay?"

Cas moved towards the bed and sat on the edge next to where Dean was laying. "I'm not mad, Dean. It just saddens me to see you this way." Dean was silent. "Dean?"

"Sorry," he mumbled, propping himself up on his elbows. "Do you... have a, um... cigarette?"

"Yes." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one and handing it to Dean. "Don't burn yourself." He then lit one for himself.

Dean smiled weakly, turning his body so he was sitting on the edge of the mattress alongside Cas. He took a drag off the cigarette. "You... care about me... too much, man." He exhaled. "What've I... ever done for you?"

Cas tilted his head in confusion. "Our relationship isn't about what you can do for me, Dean. You are my friend. I care for you."

Dean tried to ignore the way those words made his stomach knot up. "Thanks... for drivin' me home... yesterday."

"I don't want you to ever drive in that state, Dean. I mean it."

Dean nodded. He wasn't really sure what else to say, so he just took another drag off his cigarette. Cas wasn't really sure what to say either. They had never really shared such an awkward silence before.

Dean held out the rest of his cigarette to Cas. Cas took it, and Dean laid back horizontally across the bed, turning his head and burying it in Cas' trench coat, which had bunched up around his waist where he sat. As Cas took a drag off the cigarette, Dean breathed in and enjoyed his scent. He was still too fucked up to realize what he was even doing.

Cas stared down at him, raising an eyebrow. "Are you...smelling me?"

Dean pulled back and rolled over a little onto his back. "Sorry," he muttered.

"No, it's okay," Cas laughed nervously.

Fading in and out, Dean laid back again and his face was once again in Cas' coat. He breathed in deeply. He always loved the way Cas smelled.

Cas swallowed and looked around the room nervously. He wasn't really sure what to do, so he did nothing. He bit his lip and looked down at Dean, admiring his disheveled light brown hair and strong jawline, speckled with five o'clock shadow. Dean seemed pretty out of it, so he slowly reached his right arm down and ran his fingers through Dean's hair. From between the bed and his thigh, he heard Dean groan, felt the vibrations resonate against his skin, so he continued, slowly running his fingers back and forth across Dean's scalp.

Dean slowly reached his right arm up, which had previously been pinned between his side and Cas' thigh, and draped it around Cas' waist. This surprised Cas, as Dean definitely wasn't a touchy-feely kind of guy. He chalked it up to Dean being so inebriated. As much as he was enjoying this, he had to stop when he felt his dick begin to twitch. He stopped scratching Dean's head, hoping he would move before Cas' erection started pressing into his arm.

A few seconds went by before Dean pushed himself back and looked up at Cas. "I'm sorry... that was weird... I hope I didn't freak you out," he mumbled, embarrassed he'd been holding Cas' waist.

"Not at all," Cas replied, trying to hide his nervousness and will his erection to subside.

Dean rubbed his face vigorously and looked out across the room. While Cas was hoping he was too messed up to notice the tent he was pitching, Dean definitely took notice. When his own started to rise was when he sat up again and re-adjusted his pants. "Umm, do you want to smoke a bowl?" he asked, his high already beginning to wane.

"Sure," Cas replied. Figuring Dean had spent the majority of his money on dope, Cas pulled out his Altoids tin, asked Dean for his bowl, and packed it up. He took a nice hit, passed it to Dean, and exhaled.

Dean did the same, and after passing it back and forth with Cas a few more times, he lit another cigarette. "Fuck, I'm high," he sighed, taking a long drag and falling back on the bed again. At this point he seemed to have forgotten about his boner, and it stood front and center as he laid stretched out on his back, forming a mountain under the zipper of his jeans.

Cas tried to avert his gaze, but it was difficult. He wanted to tell Dean everything, but he didn't think now was the right time. "Dean, I think I had better go," he said quietly.

"Wha..? Why?" Dean asked, looking up. He seemed to be completely oblivious to his own hard-on. "You're not... mad at me, are you?"

"No Dean," Cas said with a shake of his head, "not at all. I just..." he trailed off. At this rate, he would never tell Dean.

Dean sat up, his eyebrows furrowed with worry. "What?"

Cas hesitated. "Nothing." He stood up to leave.

Dean leaned forward and grabbed his wrist, looking up at him with sad eyes. "Please stay."

"Dean, maybe you should call Lisa," Cas suggested, looking down at him with a frown.

Dean returned his frown with one of his own. "She dumped me yesterday. Can't say I blame her though," he added, looking away and chuckling slightly. They'd gotten into an argument while he was dopesick, and maybe he'd said some things he shouldn't have.

Cas sat back down. "You need to stop putting yourself down, Dean. You are a good man."

He turned to Cas and smiled. "Thanks... but it's hard. My old man doesn't think much of me, and he's the only family I've got... besides Sammy, so... you can only be talked down to so much... before you believe it's true."

"You have me," Cas said, leaning forward and putting his hand on Dean's shoulder.

Dean leaned in and hugged Cas tightly, again surprising Cas, as he was usually the one to initiate their hugs. Dean inhaled deeply, again enjoying Cas' familiar scent.

Cas pulled back, but only slightly before stopping. He stared into those green eyes he'd loved for so long, currently glazed over, and swallowed nervously. Just as he was about to pull away fully, Dean grabbed his shoulders, pulled him in, and kissed him.

Cas' eyes widened and the erection he had been trying to stifle sprung back to life.

Dean pulled away as quickly as he had pulled Cas in. "I- I'm so sorry man, I... I don't know what the fuck that was about." Cas just sat in shock, trying to process what had just happened. "I understand if you want to go. You're... you're over here to help me, I'm all strung out, and- and, I make a move on you?! I've just been really fuckin' confused, and-" he stammered.

Cas cut him off. "Dean."

He shut up and turned to Cas, who was smirking. God, he was so cute with his big blue eyes, messy hair, and mischievous grin. Dean offered a nervous smile in return.

Cas took Dean's smile as permission. He leaned forward and pushed him backwards, climbing on top of him. He had been wanting this for so long.

"Whoa, wait- what are you-?" Dean gasped, his head swimming.

"I'm sorry Dean," Cas said quietly, immediately backing up and resuming his place sitting on the edge of the bed. "...Was I moving too fast?"

"A little. I just... need time to process this, y'know? I'm still completely out of it..." He squirmed where he sat and pressed down firmly on his erection.

"I understand," Cas nodded, suddenly feeling guilty, as if he'd taken advantage of Dean. "I shouldn't have done that. But... we do need to talk about what's going on with you. You need rehab, or something. You need some kind of help."

Dean shook his head. "Just lock me up and let me detox."

"I'm not sure that's wise, Dean. You will only suffer and become angry, and you will go out looking for more. You need to get to the root of your addictive behavior..." he trailed off.

"You and that psychology course," Dean muttered.

"It's not that," Cas stated flatly. "I've... dealt with this before." He almost whispered it as he looked down at his hands fiddling in his lap.

"You?" Dean asked quizzically, raising an eyebrow.

"My brother." He looked away.

"Gabe?"

"No."

"You... have another brother?" Dean asked. "Why have I never met him?"

Cas sighed, lifting his head to look out across the room. "Because he's dead, Dean. He died right before we moved here and I met you."

Dean was quiet for a moment. "I'm sorry... I had no idea," he said somberly.

Cas shook his head. "It's okay. But he was an addict. Not your poison in particular, but his own." He paused. "Everyone tried to help him... but it wasn't enough. He ended up overdosing three times before it finally killed him. Please don't let that happen to you, Dean." He hesitated, before saying, "I can't lose anyone else." He stared down at the floor.

Dean put his left arm around Cas' shoulder, leaned forward, and said, "I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

Cas closed his eyes and hoped to god Dean would kiss him again, but the loud slam of the front door downstairs made them both jump, and Dean pulled away. "Fuck," he muttered. "My dad's home."


	4. Chapter 4

"Maybe I should go," Cas mumbled.

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "He didn't come home last night... and if he's home this early, he's not in a good mood."

Cas stood up. "Text me later, okay?" he asked quietly.

Dean nodded, and Cas turned and walked out. As he headed down the stairs, he brushed past John Winchester, who said nothing to him. He could smell the alcohol coming off of him, and he shook his head. No wonder Dean had such a love-hate relationship with booze.

As he closed the front door behind him, he could hear yelling coming from upstairs. As much as he knew he shouldn't have been eavesdropping, he headed around the side of the house, where he knew the window behind Dean's bed was open. He may have been on the ground floor, but he could still hear pretty well.

"You are going to do what I fucking tell you to do, do you understand me?" It was John. His voice was loud and angry.

"Yeah, sure," he could barely hear Dean say.

"You know the more you hang out with that kid, people will start thinkin' you're a faggot? Is that what you want?"

Cas' mouth dropped open. He had absolutely no idea Dean's father felt that way. How had he not realized this in five years? Was this why Dean always insisted they hung out at Cas' house?

"Shut the fuck up already!" he heard Dean yell in exasperation.

"We all know you're one too, even though you try to hide it," John sneered. Cas' fists clenched in anger at the disgust in John's voice. "You're an embarrassment, you know. You dropped out of school, you got no job, and _of course_ you're doing drugs. Just another pathetic chapter in 'The Life of Dean'. You're fucking worthless," he spat, venom in his voice. "A worthless faggot."

" _Enough!_ " Dean roared. He heard something crash, then what sounded like a punch landing.

It was silent for a moment, and Cas held his breath. Finally he heard John growl, "You know what? Get the fuck out. I can't even fuckin' look at you."

Cas went back to the corner of the house and peered around to the front door. Almost instantly, it swung open and Dean hurried out, clambering into the Impala. He started to peel out and Cas came out from behind the house, waving his arms. "Dean, wait!"

Dean hit the breaks and Cas climbed into the passenger seat. He hadn't even closed the door yet before Dean had slammed on the gas again. As they headed down the road, Dean cranked up the radio, which was playing AC/DC, so loud that Cas' ears hurt.

_No stop signs, speed limit, nobody's gonna slow me down_   
_Like a wheel, gonna spin it, nobody's gonna mess me around_

Cas looked over at Dean. His eyes were red and watery, and his knuckles were white from how hard he was gripping the steering wheel.

_Hey mama, look at me, I'm on my way to the promised land, whoo!_

"Dean-" Cas started, but he stopped himself. Maybe now wasn't the best time, and he doubted Dean could hear him over the music anyway.

Dean slammed on the breaks and swerved onto the dirt path. At the speed he was going, they bounced and heaved over the bumps in the road. Cas was afraid his head might hit the ceiling of the car. Again Dean slammed on the breaks, took the turn which blocked their view of the main road, and stopped. Dean threw it in park and slammed his head into the steering wheel, tears beginning to run down his face.

Cas turned the radio down and tried again. "Dean," he reached out and placed his hand on his shoulder. "Talk to me."

Dean sniffled, lifting his head but still staring down at the wheel. "What is there to say? My dad's a fucking douchebag." He paused, suddenly looking terrified. "How... how much did you hear?"

Cas frowned. "Enough. But Dean, your self-worth is not based on how your father feels about you."

"That's easy to say..." He hesitated, turning his head away from Cas to look out the window. "But when your life is filled with nothing but shit-talking from the only parent you have... And it's only you, not your brother- Not that I would ever wish this on Sammy," he added. "...But how can I _not_ believe something is wrong with me?" He stared out into the trees.

"Dean, I think your father is projecting his own issues onto you. Which is not your problem." Cas lit a cigarette, prompting Dean to do the same.

"I was raised that way... It's all I know." He turned to look at Cas, and Cas noticed his left eye was quite redder than the other.

"Did he hit you, Dean?" Cas asked quietly, feeling anger bubbling in his stomach.

Dean scoffed. "That's nothing new. Especially when he's been drinking." He'd been hiding it from Cas for a long time, but it looked like the cat was out of the bag now. There was no use denying it anymore.

Cas was quiet for a moment. Whenever he had inquired about marks and bruises in the past, Dean had always told him that he had gotten them while wrestling with Sam. "Why don't you come live with me?" Cas suggested. "You know my parents love you, they wouldn't mind."

Dean shook his head. "I don't think they want a junkie living there," he mumbled. "Besides, what if I leave, and he starts taking his shit out on Sammy? I can't leave Sammy alone with him. He's only fifteen..."

"I understand," said Cas. "Listen, why don't you come back to my place just for the day, though. Let him cool off." Dean swallowed and nodded. "Let me drive though," Cas added.

Cas got out and Dean slid across the bench seat. Once in the drivers seat, Cas threw it in reverse, and they headed back to his place. Five minutes later, they arrived at Cas' and headed upstairs, and Cas motioned towards the bed. "Make yourself comfortable," he said, as he removed his trench coat and draped it over the back of his desk chair.

Dean sat on the bed and Cas sat down in his desk chair, opening up the top drawer. He pulled out his stash and rolled a joint. Lighting it and inhaling deeply, he leaned forward and passed it to Dean. "Thanks," Dean said quietly.

They passed a few joints back and forth for quite a while, just talking. Talking about anything but the day's events. Finally, there was a pause in the conversation.

"Can I ask you something?" Dean blurted out before he could stop himself.

"Of course," Cas replied.

Dean thought for a moment. "How did you know..." he trailed off. No going back now. "Y'know, that you were gay?" As soon as the words escaped his lips, he regretted asking.

The corner of Cas' lip turned up in a smile. "Well..." he leaned forward to take the joint from Dean. "Right before I moved here, when I was like thirteen, everyone else I knew was talking about which girls were getting boobs, and staring at girls asses, and I just wasn't into it. I didn't really understand why, but I didn't really care, either." He took a long hit off the joint. "But I guess when I really figured out why I didn't like girls," he exhaled and leaned forward, passing he joint back to Dean, "was when I moved here, and, uh..."

He leaned back again and crossed his leg horizontally over his other knee, taking a moment to think. Was he really going to finally tell Dean? What if Dean never wanted to see him again, was creeped out, disgusted? He thought back to the kiss _Dean_ had given _him_ merely a few hours before. He must've been feeling something... right? _Screw it_ , he thought. It's now or never.

"...I moved here and met you," he finished quietly, his cheeks turning pink.

Dean looked down sheepishly. "So, you..." he trailed off.

Cas leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped, looking down. "Yes, Dean. I like you very much. I always have." He paused and looked up. "But I didn't want to ruin our friendship or make you uncomfortable, so I kept it to myself."

Dean was quiet, eyes still on the floor.

Cas' stomach started twisting into knots. Had he made the wrong decision in telling Dean how he felt? Had Dean only kissed him because he was high off his ass? "...Dean?" he said quietly.

Dean turned to look at him. In his eyes, Cas could see fear, relief, and... pain? "Sorry, I just-" He crossed his arms over his stomach, curling in on himself a bit. "These fucking withdrawals, man. They're horrible. I- I can't think of anything else."

Cas frowned. He now noticed Dean was drenched in sweat, shivering slightly.

"I don't want to use anymore, Cas. I don't want to be like this. But the withdrawals..." He looked up at Cas, meeting his gaze. "In those moments..." He turned away again in shame. "I would rather be dead."

Things were quiet for a moment before he finally raised his head. Cas was gone. Dean felt his heart sink. Did he really just open up like that and Cas left without saying a word? _That's what I get for being a little bitch anyway,_ he thought to himself. _Dads right, I'm just a patheti-_

His self-loathing thoughts were interrupted by Cas reappearing in the doorway, his right hand clenched tight and a water bottle and wet towel in his left. He made his way towards the bed and sat down next to Dean, extended his hand, and opened his fingers. In his palm laid two white pills.

Deans eyes widened and he looked up at Cas. "Seriously?"

Cas' face didn't hide the fact that he was dead serious, although the spark in Dean's eye when he realized what he was being given saddened Cas. "I told you Dean, you can't just quit opiates cold-turkey. As much as I feel like I am enabling, something I watched everyone around me do to my brother, these should help you get through tonight."

Dean reached out with a shaky hand and took the two pills, throwing them back and taking a sip of the water. "Thanks Cas..." He took the towel and wiped the sweat from his face and neck.

Cas took the towel back and threw it across the room towards the laundry basket. He turned back to Dean. "You're welcome. Why don't you lay back?"

Dean nodded and leaned back against the pillows, closing his eyes. Cas leaned back next to him, grabbing the TV remote and flicking it on. He channel-surfed for a while before he heard Dean begin to snore. Once he knew Dean was asleep, his mind began to wander back to their conversation.

_"I don't want to be like this."_

Cas looked down at Dean, who was looking pretty unspectacular, which was understandable given the circumstances. Yet, Cas thought he looked perfect. His slight stubble, his eyelashes, his lips as his mouth hung agape, snores escaping regularly, his chest rising and falling in unison, all made Cas' stomach fill with butterflies.

He felt the blood rushing down to his member and he sighed in frustration. Dean shifted, startling Cas. But he didn't move, only tensed momentarily. Then, Dean had rolled over onto his side, stretching his right arm around Cas' waist and pulling him closer, his face sitting in the crook of Cas' neck.

Cas inhaled sharply, feeling Dean's warm breath on his neck, and his erection rose to full attention. He willed it to subside, begged it, before Dean woke up.

As South Park played in the background, Cas sighed contently. He closed his eyes and before he knew it, he had drifted off as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs Used:  
> [ AC/DC - Highway to Hell (1979)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qKggnBh2Mdw)


	5. Chapter 5

Dean awoke slowly, his eyes fluttering open. Oh god, he was _so_ comfortable. He lifted his head groggily and his eyes widened as he realized he was spooning Cas from behind, his arm draped over him, his crotch lightly pressed against Cas' ass. He pulled his arm back and slowly backed off the bed. Grabbing his jacket from the floor, he looked down at a sleeping Cas with a frown before hurrying out the door.

As the Impala started up in the driveway, Cas stirred, but the sound must've fit into whatever dream he was having (inevitably about Dean), because he didn't wake.

Once Cas' house was lost in the rear view, Dean checked his phone. It was almost seven pm. He needed to get home and check on Sammy. When he pulled into the driveway, he was relieved to see his father's car wasn't there. He let himself in and went upstairs, knocking softly on Sam's door.

Sam knew his father didn't knock. "Dean?" he called out excitedly.

"Yeah. Can I come in?"

"Of course!" he heard from the other side of the door.

Dean opened the door and stepped in, closing it behind him. Sam jumped up off the bed to greet his big brother. "Hey!"

"Hey, kid," Dean said softly, opening his arms to hug his little brother. Sam hugged him tightly, then stepped back. "How is everything here?" Dean asked. "You okay?"

Sam nodded. "Yep. I know you worry, Dean, but dad leaves me alone." He looked down, feeling guilty that his brother took all of the abuse.

"I know. I just need to make sure." He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a small pre-paid phone he had picked up on his way home. He handed it to Sam. "Listen, I might go away for a while, but I want you to call or text me if you need _anything_. Anything at all, okay?" Sam nodded. "I'm going to text you twice a day; if you don't respond I will come find your ass, so make sure you answer, alright?" Sam nodded. "Promise me, Sammy."

"I promise."

Dean smiled weakly. "Okay, good. Remember- anything. If that bastard so much as looks at you funny, you call me."

Sam nodded again. "When will you be back?" he asked sadly.

"I'm not sure, Sammy. But dad obviously doesn't want me here. If he hates me so much, maybe he'll stop being such an asshole with me gone," Dean muttered.

Sam's features fell. "Dean, I wish you would stop blaming yourself. I was the one mom was trying to save-"

"It's not even about that, Sammy," Dean cut him off. "I'm just a fuck-up and Dad knows it." He paused. "I know it, too."

The look on his little brother's face made his stomach flip-flop with guilt. He pulled him in for another hug. "I'll see you soon, okay? Be good." Sam nodded and Dean turned and left, closing the door behind him.

He headed towards his room. The pieces of the lamp he had flung off his nightstand- the act that had resulted in his father punching him square in the face- laid exactly where they had fallen earlier in the day. He walked over to his closet and grabbed a duffel bag. He shoved some clothes into it, then went towards his nightstand, the pieces of ceramic from the lamp crunching into the carpet beneath his boots. He went through the drawers and threw a few things into his bag, zipped it up, and threw it over his shoulder. Sitting down on the bed, he pulled his phone out and dialed Crowley.

"Squirrel," the voice greeted on the other line.

"Can I come by?" Dean asked flatly.

"How could I say no?" He could almost hear Crowley's smirk over the phone.

Dean rolled his eyes, but said, "Thanks. I'll be there in fifteen," and hung up. He stood up, shoved the phone into his pocket, and walked across the room, peering out the window that looked down on the driveway. His father, being a drunk, came and went at all hours, so he never knew when to expect him home, but for now, he was in the clear. He left his bedroom and meandered down the hallway to his fathers room.

Dirty laundry and empty liquor bottles littered the floor and furniture. Kicking them to the side, Dean made his way to his fathers mattress. He lifted it up and reached underneath, swiping forward a large sum of money. He took only a small percentage of it. It was enough for now, and if he took too much, he risked John noticing. He normally wouldn't care, but if he wasn't here, who would John take it out on? Sam, of course. He shoved the rest of the money back, dropped the mattress, and left. Throwing the duffel bag into the back seat of the Impala, he climbed in the drivers seat and made his way toward Crowley's.

* * *

"Dean," Cas groaned into his pillow. "That is amazing." Suddenly, a car horn honked outside as a passersby was cut off by Cas' neighbor entering her driveway, haphazardly rushing home after a long day of work. Cas awoke with a jolt, looking around the room. He was in bed, alone. He had been dreaming.

He thought for a minute. What time was it? Wasn't Dean here? _Dean._ He instantly began to worry. Rolling over, he grabbed his phone and called him. It rang until his voicemail answered. _"This is Dean. L-"_

Cas hung up, remembering what had happened that afternoon before they'd fallen asleep. Had Dean ran off embarrassed? He tried to tell himself it was probably to go score a bag, even though that thought honestly made him feel worse. He tossed his phone onto the other side of the bed and sighed. Once he was fully awake, he became painfully aware of his raging erection, a result of the dream he had been so abruptly woken from.

He laid his hand on his stomach and slipped his fingers into the waistband of his boxers until they met the base of his cock. He let out a small sigh as he grabbed the base firmly and began slowly pumping up and down. Using his other hand, he reached down and pulled his boxers and jeans down just low enough to expose his swollen member. The release of pressure felt amazing, and he started pumping harder. His muscles twitched and he moaned as he felt himself getting close. He slowed down, twisting his hand as he moved up and down. "Oh, Dean," he mumbled under his breath, barely a whisper. He increased the speed again and before he knew it, his hips thrust forward and he came all over his chest.

He let his head fall back onto the pillow, panting slightly. He was hoping with that out of his system, he could manage to not pop a boner next time he and Dean talked about how they felt. Suddenly, he heard the familiar roar of the Impala as it pulled into the driveway. "Shit!" he cursed under his breath, wiping his dick off on his shirt and pulling up his boxers and jeans. He heard the car door slam outside. He quickly yanked off his t-shirt, secretly glad it had caught all of his come. He threw it in the laundry basket, threw on a clean shirt, and hurried downstairs to let Dean in.

As he opened the front door, Dean gave him a small smile. "Hey."

Cas smiled back, hoping his face wasn't red. "Hey. What time did you leave?" he asked, letting Dean in and shutting and locking the door behind him. "I just woke up."

"Around seven," Dean answered, following Cas upstairs. It was about eight-thirty now. "I had to go check on Sammy."

"Ah," Cas answered. He was glad Dean was behind him, so he couldn't see the joy and relief on his face at the realization that Dean hadn't left because he was embarrassed, _and_ he had actually come back!

As they entered Cas' room, Dean tossed his duffel bag down on the floor by the closet, and took a seat on the bed. "Do you mind if I take a shower?"

"Not at all," Cas replied. Dean had been over many times before, so he already knew where everything was and how the shower worked.

"Thanks man," Dean replied. The thought of shooting up first entered his mind. "I definitely need a nice long one," he added, proud of his pre-excuse. He grabbed his bag and headed into the bathroom. He locked the bathroom door behind him and threw his duffel bag onto the toilet, ripping open the zipper and grabbing everything he needed. He set up shop on the counter and once he had a nice batch cooked up and ready in the needle, he pierced the skin, pulling back on the plunger a little. When he saw red begin to fill the bottom of the vial, he knew he had hit a vein, and he pushed down on the plunger.

He could barely get the needle out of his arm and tossed into the sink before he fell backwards onto the bathroom door, sliding down to the floor. He let his head fall back and it hit the door with a thud. God, IV use was nothing like snorting. Snorting was great to keep the withdrawals at bay, but nothing compared to the rush of using intravenously. He enjoyed the warmth spreading through his body, feeling like he was nearly melting. His eyes pressed shut tight, he enjoyed the feeling for about fifteen minutes until it slowly but surely started to subside.

Cracking his eyes, he lifted his head, which felt like a thousand pounds, and looked down at his hands. They were cracked and dirty. He slowly looked around the bathroom. It was neat and clean, the way Cas' entire house was. _Well, except for the filthy junkie crouched on the bathroom floor,_ he thought to himself. His thoughts shifted to Cas. He pictured him sitting in his bedroom, worrying about Dean. All the time. Especially now that he knew he actually cared _for_ him- not just _about_ him. His mind wandered back to what his father had said. _"Of course you're doing drugs. Just another pathetic chapter in 'The Life of Dean'."_ His stomach twisted angrily and he bowed his head, starting to cry. _"You're fucking worthless."_

Why had his father even brought him into this world? Just to treat him like shit? He closed his eyes and leaned his head back again, imagining a world without him. A world where he had been in that crib instead of Sammy, and what happened, happened; his parents were still alive, and his father was happy, because he had his wife and his youngest son. He thought of a world without him, where Cas could find someone who could actually make him happy, not someone who was so closeted that Cas kept silent and stayed single rather than risk losing Dean. Was he really that much of a dick? How could Cas believe Dean would end their friendship over something so... minuscule, really, in the grand scheme of things?

He looked up, and though he could barely see from his high and the tears stinging his eyes, he could make out the rest of the bag on the counter. There was quite a bit left. He imagined what it would feel like to have one last hurrah, one last rush of euphoria before it all ended. It seemed like the most peaceful death he could think of.


	6. Chapter 6

He slowly reached over and grabbed the counter top. Pulling himself forward, he pushed his legs out and tried to pull himself up to the counter. He grabbed the bag and shook it out onto the spoon. Before he could even attempt to cook any up, which he probably wouldn't have been able to manage anyway, he dropped the spoon, and the powder spread all over the counter. Grunting in frustration he grabbed the nearest object he could find with a flat edge, and began scraping all of the powder together.

A knock on the door interrupted him, although it sounded more like an echo in the bathroom than a knock on the door. "Dean?" Cas called from outside the door. "Are you okay? It's been forty-five minutes."

Dean bit his lip, holding back tears. It might fuck Cas up for a little while when he died, but it sure would save him from a lot more pain in the future. "Go away, Cas," Dean slurred. "It's over."

"What...? What are you talking about?" Cas asked, his voice cracking with panic.

"I won't... need your help... anymore," Dean responded. "You can move on... with your life." He attempted to snort the powder but couldn't hold himself up, and ended up scattering the powder again with his labored breathing.

There was silence on the other end of the door as Cas reached above the door frame for the key to the bathroom door. He jammed it in the knob and tried to push the door open, but Dean was inadvertently blocking the way. Through the crack in the door, Cas could see everything Dean was attempting to do on the counter. "Dean!" he yelled. "Stop!" He squeezed himself in and pushed Dean back so he could open the door all the way. "What the fuck are you doing?" he asked angrily.

Slumped against the bathtub, Dean just stared through him. "I'm done, Cas," he mumbled. "Just let me go." His head fell forward and his chin hit his chest.

"No!" Cas yelled at him. "I will _not_ lose you, Dean!" He leaned down and grabbed Dean's shoulders, shaking him. "Hey! Look at me."

Dean looked up at him, and the pain Cas saw in his eyes made him want to shrivel up and die. Dean's body heaved only once before he vomited all over himself.

Cas' face fell, his anger replaced with sadness. "Dean, we need to clean you up." Dean nodded in agreement. "Do you... Are you okay with me helping you?" Dean nodded again.

Cas moved towards Dean and lifted him up from underneath his armpits, sitting him up on the edge of the bathtub. He pulled Dean's shirt off over his head, turning it inside out to catch the vomit, which was mostly bile. He tossed it into the corner of the bathroom and asked, "Can you stand?" Dean shook his head.

"C'mon," Cas said, pulling Dean up again. He stood him next to him and put his arm around him to steady him. "Finish getting undressed." Dean clumsily used his right hand to push down his jeans and boxers, which proved difficult without the ability to unbutton them. Cas led him back to the tub and helped him climb in. He ran the faucet with room temperature water. He didn't want to shock Dean, but he did want to cool him down.

As the tub filled, Cas grabbed a washcloth and some toiletries. He handed Dean the shampoo, who slowly squeezed the smallest drop onto his head and attempted to lather it up. Cas sighed, as Dean wasn't even moving his hands in the spot he'd put the shampoo. Cas took the shower head and wet Dean's hair quickly, and started scrubbing. He then used the soap to lather up the washcloth. "You're doing this part," he smirked, holding out the washcloth.

Dean took the washcloth and lazily began sliding it all over his face, down his neck, across his chest, as much of his back as he could reach, and up and down his arms. He then dunked it into the water to wash his legs, and in-between them. Cas bit his lip as he looked away. Even though Dean was completely out of it, so he wouldn't realize and feel uncomfortable, he still felt like it wasn't right watching and becoming aroused. Dean was in a really bad place right now, and Cas was supposed to be helping him, not getting a boner while creeping on him in the bath.

Once Dean was finished, Cas helped him stand up and rinse off with the shower head (keeping his eyes above the waist), since the bath water was now pretty dirty. He then handed him a towel, which Dean slowly wrapped around his waist. After Cas had helped him step out of the tub, Dean said, "I think I'm okay now." He started to walk and seemed fine, so he headed out of the bathroom and into Cas' bedroom. As soon as Cas entered the room behind him a few minutes later, carrying Dean's bag, Dean came out from around the corner and threw his arms around Cas. Cas jumped, obviously startled.

Dean pulled back, hands gripping Cas' upper arms. "You're the best there is, Cas," he mumbled.

Cas stared into those green eyes, still slightly hazy, his left one bruised and slightly swollen, and he could've swore he melted. "Nah," he brushed Dean off. "You would do the same for me Dean, I'm sure of it."

Dean smiled and let his hands fall, looking down. He noticed Cas had his bag, and he reached his hand out for it. Cas handed it over, and Dean took it over to the bed, where he pulled out clean boxers, jeans, and a shirt, and proceeded to get dressed. Cas squirmed uncomfortably where he stood, his dick twitching. This was fucking torture. As Dean buttoned his jeans, he turned around, noticing Cas standing there uncomfortably, staring at the floor. "Hey," he snapped his fingers and Cas looked up quickly, cheeks flushed with red.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

Dean grabbed his cigarettes out of his bag and lit one. "For what?"

"...Zoning out," Cas replied quietly.

"Was that what you were doin'?" Dean teased. Cas looked embarrassed, which made Dean feel guilty. He quickly closed the gap between them and wrapped his arms around Cas' waist. This made him feel girly, but he was still riding off his high, and they were alone, so he didn't really care very much. He looked Cas straight in the eyes. "Thank you for takin' care of me, Cas. I don't know what I did to deserve a friend like you." Cas met Dean's gaze sheepishly, his cheeks reddening further. Dean's eyes traveled down to Cas' mouth. He took his chin in his hands and, tilting his head up, leaned in, and planted a firm, yet gentle kiss.

When Dean pulled away, Cas stood in silence for a moment, mouth agape. Once his brain started working again, he spoke. "Dean, I... I need to know if this is real."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, confused.

"You've been pretty out of your mind lately, Dean," he shrugged. "I don't want you making any decisions you might regret." He paused. "And I don't want to get my hopes up," he admitted, looking away.

Dean sighed, turning and walking towards the bed. He motioned for Cas to follow, which he did, sitting in his desk chair. "Listen man," Dean started, "I..." He took a deep breath and exhaled, looking down into his lap. "I've felt this way for a while. It's just... the way my dad is, I didn't exactly want to admit it." He raised his eyes up to look at Cas. "...Can you blame me?"

Cas shook his head. "Not at all, Dean, but as I said before, other's opinions of you do not matter in the slightest." He looked down at the desk, where he was rolling a joint. He licked down the length of the paper so he could seal it, and Dean felt a small shudder pass through him at the sight.

"Some of them do... Like yours," he said shyly.

Cas looked over at him and smiled. "I like when you open up, Dean. It makes me feel trusted."

This made Dean smile back. He did trust Cas. He leaned back on the bed, folding his arms behind his head. As Cas lit the joint and took a puff, Dean tilted his head to the side, motioning for Cas to join him on the bed. Cas happily followed his prompt.

As they passed the joint back and forth, they talked about other things for a while. Dean was relieved at the chance to clear his mind for a moment.

Cas took the last hit off the joint, snuffing the clip in the ashtray on his nightstand. As he reached over, his shirt lifted up, revealing the small of his back. His skin was so smooth and perfect. Dean felt his cock start to stiffen. He wondered if he was as soft as he looked... He reached out and grazed Cas' back with his fingertips before quickly placing his hand back behind his head.

Dean's touch sent a jolt of electricity through Cas, and he jumped. He turned back to face Dean, who was just lying there, arms still behind his head, smirking. His eyes slowly traveled down Dean's body, stopping when he noticed the considerable bulge in his jeans. "Dean?" Dean flashed him a grin. "...Are you sure you are ready for that...with a guy?" Cas asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dean's smile shrunk a little and he shrugged his shoulders. "I guess. I'm on the tail end of my high but I'm pretty damn stoned, too."

Cas shook his head. "We aren't doing anything if you're not clear-headed."

Dean turned his head to Cas. "It's inebriated or not at all, Cas. No way I can do this for the first time sober. I just can't."

Cas frowned, a little offended. But he ignored it, because he knew it had nothing to do with him, and everything to do with Dean, and his "walls". "But... you want to?" he asked cautiously.

Dean nodded, swallowing hard. What had he gotten himself into?

"But Dean, you were just-"

"Forget that, Cas. I was just being stupid."

"You weren't being stupid. But I really think we should talk about it."

Dean clenched his jaw. "Just drop it, Cas."

"Okay," Cas said softly. "So..." Figuring actual sex was going to be too much for Dean, he asked, "Do you... want a blowjob?" Dean nodded eagerly. "Okay," Cas said, a smile smile appearing on his lips. He truly enjoyed giving head. He turned his body to face Dean and slowly reached over and unbuttoned his jeans. He normally liked to start with some foreplay, but he didn't want to get too... intimate, until Dean was more comfortable. He slowly pulled down the zipper. Dean tried to hold back a moan as the descending zipper vibrated over his hard cock through his boxers.

Cas slipped his jeans and boxers to mid-way down his thighs. Dean let out a small groan at the release of pressure. Cas ran his hand across Dean's pelvis, towards his dick, taking the base in his hand. He felt Dean's cock twitch in his hand, and it turned him on like crazy. He began slowly pumping, twisting his wrist as he did so. Dean squirmed beneath him and tried to stifle a moan. Cas could feel his own erection pressing painfully against his jeans, but he ignored it. He wanted to make _Dean_ feel good; he had gotten his own rocks off not even two hours prior.

He leaned down and gave the tip a small flick with his tongue, before taking the head in his mouth, lightly sucking as he swirled his tongue around it. Dean groaned again and lifted his head to look down at Cas. Their eyes met for a moment before Dean let his head fall back and closed his eyes, not wanting to make this anymore awkward for himself.

Any thoughts of awkward disappeared when Cas suddenly took all of Dean's length into his mouth. Dean bucked his hips, and when he did so, he felt the head of his dick hit the back of Cas' throat. "Oh, fuck," he muttered through clenched teeth.

Cas began bobbing his head as his hand kept up the rhythm. Dean reached down and grabbed a fistful of his hair, which made Cas moan onto his cock. Dean twitched and shuddered, thrusting his hips into Cas' mouth. Cas didn't slow down, even as Dean's dick repeatedly hit the back of his throat. Dean felt the familiar warmth surging in his belly. He tried to hold it back, but this was better than any blowjob he'd ever had from a chick. Takes a guy to know what a guy wants, he guessed.

Suddenly, just as Dean looked down at Cas again, Cas slipped his tongue between his bottom lip and Dean's shaft, increased his suction, and came up slowly- so slowly- all the while those big blue eyes staring into Dean's. Dean flung his head back again and thrust his hips forward as he exploded down Cas' throat, a mangled cry escaping from his own.

Cas swallowed and sat back on his haunches. His tongue flicked out to lick the corner of his mouth and he smiled at Dean sheepishly. Dean looked up at him, chest rising and falling as he breathed, and patted the bed next to him. Cas crawled over and laid down next to him, resting his head on his chest.

Dean wrapped his arm around him, playing with his hair. He sighed contently.

"Are you glad we did that, Dean?" Cas asked softly.

"Yes," Dean said breathlessly. "Very." He reached up with his left hand and tilted Cas' head towards him. Cas stared into those lovely green eyes and Dean pulled him in for another kiss. When they pulled apart, he licked his lips, and realized he could taste himself on Cas. He felt like he should be grossed out, but he wasn't, at all. Cas laid his head back on Dean's chest. Dean motioned with his right hand, which was wrapped around Cas, to Cas' crotch, where his erection could clearly be seen straining against his jeans. "What about you?"

"I will be fine, Dean," he assured. "I can't expect too much from you at once."

Dean agreed with him, although he felt guilty. "You're right, and I'm sorry. But... I have a suggestion?" Dean offered hesitantly, feeling a bit adventurous.

Cas looked up at him again, head titled to the side. _He's so cute,_ Dean thought. How had they not been doing this before? Fuck, it was like as soon as he stopped repressing the feelings, they'd slammed into him full-force. "Why don't you take care of yourself, and..." He gulped. "I'd like to watch."

Cas' confused expression turned to a grin as he sat up, excitedly removing his pants, and laid back down. Dean rolled over and stood up, pulling up his boxers but kicking off his jeans, and grabbing his pack of cigarettes. As he lit one, he sat down at Cas' desk.

"Why are you over there?" Cas asked sadly.

Dean shrugged. "Act like I'm not here."

Cas laughed. "Like you're peeking in on me? You pervert."

Dean smirked. "Shut up." He took a long drag off his cigarette as Cas finally turned his attention to his throbbing dick, slowly stroking it. He then grabbed it the same way he did Dean's, pumping and twisting. He reached down with his left hand and squeezed his balls a bit before allowing his left hand to fall limp at his side. He kept pumping with his right, and Dean greatly enjoyed watching the muscles in his abdomen twitch with pleasure. He ashed his cigarette and was surprised when he felt his own dick perk up again. While he admired it's effort, he was not up to round two. Heroin wasn't the greatest for your sex drive, and tonight had been the first time he'd came in nearly two weeks. Little Dean was down for the count.

Cas groaned, turning to look at Dean. "You aren't supposed to look at me," Dean blurted out, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

"Sorry," Cas gasped, his face flushing. He had just wanted to see Dean's body, sitting in his room before him, clad in only his underwear. The brief view had done the trick, though. His hips shuddered as he reached orgasm, coming all over his chest. He let out a loud gasp, before slowly pumping two to three more times. A small residual amount of semen leaked out of the tip and dripped onto his stomach, and Cas let his head fall back into the pillow, panting slightly. His right arm fell limply to the side.

Dean got up and grabbed a towel off the back of the door. He made his way over to the bed and leaned down, cleaning off Cas' chest. Cas looked up at him lovingly. Dean leaned further and gave him a quick kiss. "Do you want to head to bed? I'm exhausted."

Cas nodded. Dean walked over to the bedroom door and closed it, although Cas' parents had left that morning for vacation, and flicked off the light. When he returned to the bed, Cas was already underneath the blanket. Dean climbed in next to him and tried lying on his back, but it just wasn't comfortable. He usually slept on his side, so he rolled over, facing the bedroom door.

Cas popped up and peered over his shoulder. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Dean responded. "Just thinkin'."

"Would you like me to hold you, Dean?" Cas asked cautiously. Dean nodded. Cas snuggled up behind him and laid his arm over him. "I enjoyed that, Dean."

"I did too," he said quietly.

"Goodnight Dean," Cas mumbled as he began to drift off.

"Night, Cas."


	7. Chapter 7

"What the fuck did you say to me?"

"I said, _leave him alone!_ " Dean yelled.

John laughed and shook his head. "Boy, didn't I teach you better than to disrespect your elders?" He began to unbuckle his belt.

Dean turned his head to look at six-year-old Sam, who was sitting at the kitchen table, his food untouched, and mouthed _"go"_. Sam scrambled out of his chair and ran out of the room.

John took a step forward, his belt in his hand. "Gonna have to teach you some manners," he muttered. Dean took a step back. "Of course your little pussy ass is going to run away," he sneered. Then he raised his voice. "Take your punishment like a man!" He reached out and grabbed Dean's jacket, throwing him to the floor. "And if you move, I will go up there and I will give Sam the punishment _he_ deserved... 'fore you interrupted."

Dean squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fists, preparing for the sting of the leather. "Do whatever you want to me. But you leave him alone," he muttered through clenched teeth.

"Dean Winchester," his father laughed, winding his arm back, belt in hand. "The fucking hero."

"NO!" Dean screamed into the darkness.

Cas flew up in bed, looking around frantically. His eyes immediately found Dean, lying next to him, thrashing in his sleep. His face contorted in pain as he yelled, "No! Get away!"

Cas reached over and grabbed his shoulder, shaking him. "Dean! _Dean!_ " he yelled. "Wake up! You're having a nightmare!"

Dean's eyes shot open and he sat straight up, gasping for air and covered in sweat. He looked to his right and saw Cas staring at him with worry. He wiped his forehead and face with his hand. After a minute of silence, he mumbled, "I... I'm sorry I woke you."

"Dean," Cas tossed his head back in exasperation, sighing. "You just had an awful nightmare and you're apologizing to _me_?" Dean was quiet. "Are you alright?" Dean nodded in response. "Do you want to talk about it?" Dean swallowed and looked away, tears welling up in his eyes. He shook his head.

"I won't force you, then," Cas said quietly. "But know whenever you're ready to talk- about _anything_ \- I am here to listen."

Dean nodded. "Thank you, Cas." He shifted his body to face the doorway and lit a cigarette, staring at the wall. He didn't want Cas to see him cry. He felt Cas settle back down into a lying position, and he took a long drag off his cigarette. He then stood up and snuffed it out.

"Where are you going?" Cas asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Piss," Dean mumbled. He headed into the bathroom and closed the door. Lifting the toilet seat, he reached into his boxers and pulled out his dick. As he started to urinate, he thought back to Cas' lips wrapped around it. But then his mind flashed back to a more recent memory- his nightmare.

_"Of course your little pussy ass is going to run away."_

He groaned, finishing and giving his dick a quick shake before putting it back in his boxers. This stuff with Cas was going to be a lot harder than he thought if he couldn't even do anything without his father's remarks echoing in his head. He felt a pang in his stomach as he realized he was getting nauseous. He wasn't sure what time it was. It was pretty early in the morning, so it was safe to say he was feeling withdrawal symptoms again.

There was no trace of his baggie on the counter, so he headed back to the room, figuring Cas had hid it on him. Cas was on his side in bed, back to the door, beginning to drift off again. Dean crawled back under the covers next to him and laid on his side so they were back-to-back. He brought his knees up and crossed his arms in an attempt to stop the stomach pain. Then the shivers came and the cold sweats started.

Cas stirred, and he realized Dean was shivering. "Are you cold?" he asked sleepily, shifting a bit. As he moved, he realized the leg that had been touching Dean was wet. "You're sweating-" He stopped, realizing what was happening to Dean.

"I'm fine, Cas," Dean said flatly. "Go back to sleep."

Cas swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, leaving the room. He reappeared with two pills, extending his arm out to Dean. Dean took them and quickly swallowed them, grabbing his water off Cas' desk and taking a sip.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

Cas nodded and walked back around the bed, getting underneath the blanket again. They were quiet, facing away from each other. As Dean's pills started to take effect, the nausea and shivering began to subside. Soon his eyes began to droop and he slipped off into sleep.

He awoke a few hours later. Thankfully, he'd had no more nightmares. He reached onto the desk and grabbed his cell phone. It was nine am. He quickly texted Sammy. _'you good?'_

Much to his relief, Sam responded rather quickly. _'yeah, im over at jess' house'_

 _'go get em tiger ;)'_ Dean responded.

His phone dinged again. _'youre hilarious'_

Dean smiled to himself and placed his phone back on the desk, rolling over to face Cas. He wanted to run his hand up and down Cas' arm, nuzzle his neck, smell his hair. But self-consciousness and embarrassment flooded his brain, so instead he laid back down, staring at the ceiling.

Soon Cas stirred. He then rolled over to face Dean and, realizing Dean was awake, lifted his head. "Hey."

"Hey," Dean replied.

"How long have you been up?"

"Maybe ten minutes."

"Oh, okay," Cas said, plopping his head down between Dean's arm and the pillow. "Did you sleep better?"

Dean nodded. "I did, thanks."

"Wanna go walk through the woods for a while and smoke?" Cas asked.

"Sounds good," Dean replied. "I just have to shower first." He stood up and made his way to the bathroom. Grabbing a towel and washcloth from the linen closet, he turned on the water and climbed in. As the hot water poured down his back, he lathered up the washcloth and began scrubbing himself, trying to wash off the stench he felt he had been unable to last night due to his state of intoxication.

He thought back to the night before, watching Cas play with himself. He was so hot, just lying there naked. He felt his cock stiffen at the thought. Instinctively, he tried to stop himself, before realizing there was no point. He reached down and took himself in his hand, squeezing and tugging slowly. He leaned his head back and moaned, speeding up the pace. As his balls stiffened up, he leaned forward and put one hand on the wall to support himself, pumping furiously. He gritted his teeth and came hard, letting out a loud grunt.

He quickly finished his shower and dried off before grabbing his clothes out of his bag and getting dressed. He headed back into the bedroom and tossed his bag back on the floor. Cas was already dressed, sitting on the bed. "Ready?" Dean asked, grabbing his phone and cigarettes off the desk.

Cas quickly patted a few of the pockets of his trench coat to make sure everything he needed was there. "Yep."

They walked in silence until they reached the dirt road. Both lighting cigarettes, they smoked and reminisced about other times they'd spent in those woods.

"Remember that night we went camping out here for Sammy's twelfth birthday, and you and him scared the ever-loving shit out of me?"

"Yeah," Cas laughed. "I could have sworn you peed yourself."

Dean turned to look at him, smirking. "Actually, I did. _A little_. But I couldn't let you two know that!" They both laughed.

They turned the corner and continued down the road until they came to a small trail on the right, barely noticeable behind the bushes and hanging branches. They ducked underneath the leaves and continued on. This small path was essentially theirs, tucked away in the forest, forged by years of walking this exact route together. They came to a small clearing, where a deer stood in the field, chewing on some grass. Cas nudged Dean and pointed to the deer. They watched him eat for a moment before Cas took a step towards some large rocks to sit down, and stepped on a twig. The deer froze for a few seconds before taking off in the opposite direction.

"Sorry we ruined your meal!" Dean yelled, joining Cas on the rocks.

Cas smiled to himself, pulling his Altoids tin from his trench coat pocket. He set it down next to him on the rock and got to work rolling a joint. He then passed it to Dean to light as he stood up and walked into the field. He bent down to feel if the grass was wet, which it wasn't, due to how warm and sunny it was already. He sat down and crossed his legs.

Dean took a long hit off the joint and quietly walked up behind Cas, leaning down and blowing the smoke directly at the back of his head. As smoked billowed into his peripheral vision, Cas smiled. He was very happy things were seeming to remain normal between he and Dean.

They both laid down in the grass on their backs. As they smoked and talked, Dean began to open up a little more.

"Dean... I think we should talk about last night," Cas said eventually, hesitantly, as he passed him their third joint.

Dean sighed. "Yeah... I guess we should."

"What were you doing?"

"Huh?" Dean responded.

"Talking like that in the bathroom... Why would you try to kill yourself, Dean?" Cas turned his head to look at Dean, his brows furrowed with concern.

"Oh," Dean said, avoiding Cas' gaze. "I thought you meant the other stuff."

"Well, I'd like to talk about that too, when you're ready. But your mental health is more important."

Dean was quiet for a moment, taking a hit off the joint, before passing it back to Cas. He exhaled. "Because... What's the point? I mean, I fuck up everything I touch, my own father hates me with a passion, I'm so dumb I couldn't even finish high school..." He trailed off. "Need I say more?" He turned to look at Cas as Cas closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. When he re-opened them, Dean felt like they pierced his soul. He looked away and mumbled, "No one needs my worthless ass around."

"None of those things are true, Dean. I don't know what your father's issue is, but it's _his_ issue. Just because he's projecting it onto you, doesn't make it yours."

"It doesn't make it any better when he..." he stopped, his eyes beginning to sting.

"I know, Dean," he said quietly. "But I just want you to remember that. And remember that Sam needs you." He paused. "And I need you," he added softly. "I also want you to know that you are a caring, funny, genuine... _handsome_ person," he finished, blushing slightly.

Dean closed his eyes and sighed, the corner of his lip lifting into a small smirk. "Thank you, Cas." He wondered how Cas was able to express his feelings like that, opening himself up to the world for judgement and ridicule. He reached up and wiped his eyes. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course you can."

"How are you so... open? Like, you seem to just say what's on your mind, without fear of the response. I can't do that."

Cas pondered for a moment. "Well, to be fair, I didn't tell you how I felt for years, because I did fear your response," he admitted. "But honestly, I am only this open with you, Dean." He propped himself up on his elbow and leaned over Dean, looking into his eyes. "You are the only one I know won't judge me."

This made Dean's heart flutter. He grinned up at Cas and joked, "Oh, I'll judge you alright. 10/10, would date."

Cas laughed deeply. He'd never been happier, and he just hoped Dean really felt the same way. "Speaking of that, maybe we should... talk about that now," he suggested. "If you're up for it," he added.

"Yeah, because honestly, it's kind of driving me crazy," Dean stated.

"Huh?" Cas tilted his head in confusion.

"Keeping it all in," he said. "I need to get this shit off my chest. There's too much... unsaid."

"I agree, Dean," Cas said with a small nod, although he was starting to fear what Dean would say.

"Basically, I just want to say..." Dean trailed off, pondering. "I'm totally okay with this."

Cas flashed him a huge grin and gave a small laugh, sighing in relief. "To be honest, I thought you were going to insist on continuing in secret," he admitted.

Dean hesitated. "No, but..." Cas' face fell. "I don't know if I'm ready for _other_ people to know... So maybe if we could just keep it on the down-low." He frowned at the hurt in Cas' eyes. "I don't mean run around in secret or anything," he added quickly. "I'm just saying, maybe don't tell Sam... or anyone at school... yet. Please."

Cas nodded. "I understand," he said quietly, looking down.

Dean propped himself up on his elbow as well, turning to Cas. "And please don't think it's because of you, Cas," he urged, taking Cas' chin with his index finger and thumb. "It's because of my own issues I have to work through. Okay?" He leaned in and pressed his lips to Cas'. Cas closed his eyes and leaned in, kissing him back. When Dean pulled away, Cas stayed put, and slowly opened his eyes. "Are you mad?" Dean asked.

"Not at all, Dean. I'm honestly just really glad you are sharing so much with me these past few days. I will try to understand your limitations and be patient."

"You really are the best, Cas." He smiled. Feeling his stomach begin to grumble with hunger, he checked his phone and saw it was one pm. "Do you want to go grab some lunch?" he asked. "I'm _starving_."

Cas smiled as Dean rose to his feet and reached down to take Cas' hands and pull him up. "I would love that."


	8. Chapter 8

The diner was packed, as it was a Sunday afternoon, but they were seated quickly in a two-person booth in the back. The waitress, a tall blonde, placed their menus on the table, but Cas told her they were already ready to order.

"Okay, what can I get for you two?"

"I'm take the pancakes, please." He looked over to Dean.

"Uh, cheeseburger... please." She nodded, writing down their orders on her notepad. "And a slice of cherry pie," he added.

"You got it, boys," she said as she turned on her heel and walked off.

"Breakfast for lunch, huh?" Dean asked.

Cas shrugged. "The mood just struck me for pancakes."

Dean shook his head, smiling. A few rows down to their left, a group of four guys caught his eye. They were shooting glances in their direction, snickering.

Dean swallowed hard, his stomach sinking. Could they tell? Could _everybody_ tell? How? Had people ever thought they were a couple before, in all the years they had hung out together?

"...Dean?"

He turned to look at Cas. "Sorry, what?"

"I asked you how you were feeling."

"I'm alright," he said distractedly. "A little nauseous but I'm hoping eating will help."

"What were you staring at?" Cas started to turn his head.

"Nothing," Dean said quickly. "Uh, listen," he began, and Cas refrained from turning his head to instead keep his gaze on Dean. "I was thinkin' I could stay with you while your parents are on vacation, if that's cool."

"Of course, Dean. I told you you could stay."

"Great, thanks," he smiled.

Soon their food arrived, and they ate in silence. Once Dean finished his burger, he pointed to his slice and asked, "Want some pie?"

"I'm fine, thank you," Cas replied.

The waitress noticed they were already finished and quickly stopped as she passed their table, facing Dean. "You boys need anything else?" She gave Dean a small wink.

Dean tried to hide the surprise on his face. "Uh, no, just the check please."

"Sure thing," she chirped, walking off. Cas raised an eyebrow at Dean, who shrugged. Although she wasn't facing Cas straight-on, he could see that she had winked at him. While it wasn't a big deal, he felt jealousy simmering in his gut.

She returned with the check and placed it on the table as she quickly continued on to bring another guest their drinks.

Dean reached into his back pocket for his wallet, but Cas held his hand out. "Don't worry about it, I got it."

"You sure? You've already smoked me up on a ton of weed these past few days."

Cas nodded. "You know I don't really have to worry about money, Dean."

"Thank you," he said quietly, bringing his hand back up without his wallet.

Cas reached into his trench coat and pulled out his own wallet. He tucked a few bills and a tip into the receipt holder before rising to his feet. As they walked out, Cas was a few steps ahead of him. Dean trailed behind, hands in his pockets. Looking at the floor, he walked past the table that had been snickering in their direction, feeling his anxiety rising. It wasn't until he was past their table that he heard them laughing again.

They exited the diner and Dean quickened his pace to catch up with Cas. "What the fuck was their problem?" he muttered.

Cas stopped and turned around. "Who?"

"Those four jackasses at the table we passed," Dean said, throwing his thumb back in the direction of the diner.

"What did they do?" Cas asked, obviously clueless.

Dean began to feel stupid for even bringing it up. "They just kept staring at us and laughing," he said.

"People laugh, Dean. How do you know it was even at us?" Cas asked innocently.

"Because they kept looking at _us_ , Cas." He narrowed his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Cas said quietly. "I'm not sure what I could have done differently to prevent that."

Dean's face fell. "I'm sorry man, I- I didn't mean it like that."

"I know," Cas mumbled.

"Let's just go back to the house, okay?" Dean suggested, feeling like a total dick.

Cas nodded as they began walking again, each lighting a cigarette. Once they arrived back at Cas', Cas plopped himself down on the couch and turned on the TV. Dean sat down next to him, crossing one leg over his knee and resting his right hand in his lap. He laid his left arm up on the back of the couch behind Cas, and tilted his head back, sighing. Cas noticed he was sweating, but hadn't removed his jacket. "How you doing?" Cas asked.

"Not great," Dean muttered. "It's been a while." It was now three-thirty in the afternoon, and the last thing he'd taken had been the two pills Cas had given him in the wee hours of the morning.

"Do you want another pill? Maybe you should just take one this time... taper off," he suggested.

Dean shook his head. "I'm good... thank you." He knew he needed _something_ , but what he _really_ wanted was to use intravenously. He was hoping he could hold out until Cas took a shower, took a shit, _something_ , so he could look for the bag he'd hidden.

They sat quietly, watching American Dad. Dean zoned out, trying to distance himself from the shivers, body aches, and nausea. He closed his eyes and sunk into the couch, trying to find the headspace he was in when he was using, but it was impossible. Finally, Cas sat forward. It was nearly six o'clock now. "Dean, I have some homework to finish before school tomorrow. Do you want to come upstairs with me? Or would you like some alone time?"

"I'm probably gonna pass out down here for a bit if that's okay," he mumbled.

Cas nodded. "I'll be back down in an hour or two. You know to help yourself to anything." He stood up and walked over to the stairs, climbing them and disappearing from view. Dean heard him unzip his backpack and set some books down on the desk. He stood up and creeped over to the staircase, listening closely. He heard pages rustling and took that as his cue that Cas wouldn't be coming back down anytime soon.

He instantly began searching anywhere he could think of. Cabinets in the entertainment center, under the couch cushions, underneath the cable box, under the couch itself. He turned up nothing. He headed into the kitchen and started over again. Under the sink, behind the plates in the china cabinet, under the coffee maker. Finally, he climbed underneath the kitchen table and there it was, taped to the underside of the table. He closed his eyes and thanked god Cas hadn't flushed it down the toilet. Then his face fell as he realized he had no idea what Cas had done with his needle. He grunted in frustration and opened the baggie, pouring what was left out onto the table. He reached in his back pocket for his wallet, pulled out his license, and formed it into two small lines. Quickly leaning back to be sure Cas wasn't coming down the stairs, he lurched forward again and snorted one into each nose. He then shoved the empty baggie into his jacket pocket, his license back in his wallet, and quickly made it back to the couch while he still could.

He plopped back down across the couch, sinking into the cushions. Within a few minutes he felt the pain begin to subside and his body temperature return to normal. He felt warm and comfortable and happy.

Of course, this feeling was only temporary. While his body still felt good, as he started to come down, bad thoughts began to infiltrate his head again. He thought back to the diner at those snickering assholes. While he was angry, his biggest question was how they could tell. Was it just obvious? Did people look at each other differently once they'd done something dirty together?

He thought about the future, and what they would face once they were open about it. Cas had been jumped multiple times around town and at school. Last year he began carrying a blade inside his trench coat after one particularly nasty fight landed him in the emergency room. Honestly, Dean wasn't even worried much about that. His concern was people looking at him differently; thinking he was disgusting, a sinner, a pervert. People who had once liked him refusing to associate with him. He didn't want to find out who those people were, but once things were out in the open, it would be inevitable.

He thought back to Cas' face when he had asked to keep it quiet for now. He had looked so hurt, although he tried to hide it. It made Dean feel like a horrible person. His eyes began to well up with tears. Cas deserved someone who didn't give a shit what anyone thought, because he loved him and that was all that mattered. He sniffled and wiped his face on his jacket sleeve. He and Cas weren't even really together yet, and he was already being a selfish prick. He was already less than Cas deserved.

He heaved himself up off the couch and snuck out the front door, closing it quietly behind him. He knew the engine of the Impala would alert Cas to him leaving, but by then he would already be gone. He took a deep breath, yanked open the door, and started her up, quickly throwing her in reverse and peeling out. He took his phone out of his pocket and dialed Crowley.

"What?" Crowley answered.

"I need more," Dean said quickly.

"Of course you do. I'm here." He hung up.

Dean stepped on the gas and was at Crowley's in five minutes. He banged on the door. Crowley swung it open and moved to the side so Dean could enter.

Dean threw a couple of crumpled bills on the table. "Whatever I can get for that."

Crowley rolled his eyes and sat down. He reached out and slapped the money, dragging it across the table while staring at Dean, who shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

"You only have sixteen dollars here, squirrel. You know I don't play that game," he said calmly.

"Look, I wasn't able to get to the rest of my money," he blurted out. It had been upstairs in his bag with Cas. He lowered his voice. "You know I'll be back, man. I'm good for it."

Crowley stared at him for a moment, his hands clasped in his lap and his legs crossed. "Do you think I make my money by taking the word of drug addicts, Dean?" he asked, his voice calm.

Dean looked down. "No."

He stared right through Dean. "Look at me." Dean looked up. "You are lucky I like you, squirrel." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a twenty bag, tossing it on the table. "Now go, before I change my mind." He waved his hand towards the door.

Dean snatched up the bag and left. He started up the Impala, and on his way back to Cas', stopped at a pharmacy. He approached the counter and waited impatiently, tapping his fingers on the counter top.

Finally a young male pharmacist approached the counter. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah, um.. I need needles. Insulin needles." He paused. "For my little brother."

The pharmacist looked him up and down and smirked. "Whatever you say." He grabbed a box of insulin needles off the shelf. "That'll be a dollar forty-five."

Dean reached into his wallet and took out his last remaining two dollars he had hidden from Crowley. The pharmacist gave him his change and handed over the needles. Dean quickly shoved them in his jacket and turned away. "Thanks," he mumbled, heading for the door, as the pharmacist's glaring eyes burned into the back of his skull.

He got back in the car and located a water bottle on the floor with a few sips of water left. He found an empty fountain soda cup and poured some powder in, mixing a bit of water. He sloshed it around. As it dissolved, he was grateful that this new batch Crowley had didn't need to be heated. A car pulled up next to him and he realized the area he was in was too busy. He quickly started the car and pulled out, holding the cup in his lap. He headed back towards Cas' and pulled over as soon as he saw an empty parking lot. The business was closed.

He parked the car and set the cup on the dash. Ripping off his jacket, he grabbed a broken oversized rubber band off the floor and used it as a makeshift tourniquet, using his teeth to help him pull it tight and hoping it wouldn't break and snap him in the face. He then reached for the cup on the dash.

_Carry on my wayward son, there'll be peace when you are done_

He sighed and fumbled around for his phone in his jacket.

_Lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry no more_

It was Cas. He hesitated before answering. "Yo."

"Where did you go?" Cas asked worriedly.

"Just went to check on Sammy," he lied. Fuck, he _hated_ lying to Cas.

"Okay. Are you coming back when you're done?"

"Of course," Dean said, his eyes wandering back down to the needle. The tourniquet was starting to hurt. He had tightened it up enough to not come loose. "I'll see you soon."

"Okay, bye." Cas hung up.

Cas didn't sound mad, but Dean felt awful. And the only way he knew how to deal with feeling awful was getting fucked up. He ripped open the box of needles and pulled the cap off of one with his teeth. Tilting the cup, he slowly pulled every drop of liquid up into the syringe. He then tossed the cup back on the floor and located a vein. He slowly pushed the needle in and slightly pulled the plunger up to confirm he had hit a vein, before pushing the plunger back down. He withdrew the needle and quickly yanked off the rubber band, leaning his head back and groaning. The wave of warmth he sought after so much soon enveloped him, and he closed his eyes. The last thing he heard was Blue Oyster Cult's "Don't Fear the Reaper" playing quietly through the radio as he nodded out.

When he came to, he slowly reached over to grab his phone. It had been nearly forty-five since Cas had called. "Shit," he mumbled. He clumsily dialed the number of the phone he had given Sam.

"Hello?"

"Heyyy," Dean slurred. "How... how is everythin'... over there."

"Fine. Are you okay? Are you drunk?"

"Uh..." Dean paused. "Yeah."

"Okay. Well things are okay here. He's hardly even here, really. Try not to worry."

"Okay. You- you call me if you need anythin' Sammy. Don't forget."

"I won't, Dean. Goodnight."

"Night Sam," Dean mumbled, as he pressed a bunch of buttons before hanging up. He tossed his head back and took a deep breath in. He rolled down the window and lit a cigarette. He gave the nicotine a few minutes to get into his system before starting up the car, turning up the radio, and slowly heading back to Cas' house.

When he arrived, he lurched himself out of the car, locking it behind him. He patted his inside pockets to make sure he had his baggie and the needle he'd used before knocking on the door.

Within two minutes Cas had opened the door and let him in. "Are you hungry?" he asked Dean.

"I'm alright, thanks. I am dead tired though," he said. His stomach twisted with guilt. Did Cas know he was lying to him? "Can we watch some TV?"

Cas nodded and they headed upstairs. Dean took each step slowly, holding onto the railing with both hands. Luckily Cas didn't notice, as he was ahead of Dean. As they entered the room, Cas started to change into pajamas. Dean followed suit, removing his jacket. Cas noticed only the left sleeve of his flannel was rolled up.

He remained silent, climbing up into bed. Dean joined him. "You don't, like, mind that I'm sleeping in your bed... right?"

Cas shook his head. "It's actually been really nice sleeping next to someone."

"I agree," Dean mumbled. He rolled over to face Cas, who turned his head to look at him.

"Besides, you've always slept in my bed when you stayed over."

Dean shrugged. "I know, but... it's kinda different now."

"What will you do while I'm in school all day, Dean?" Cas asked.

He shrugged again. "Probably just wander around town," he muttered, knowing full well he didn't really care, as long as he was doped up all day.

"You're more than welcome to stay here during the day even if I'm not here," Cas offered.

"Thanks." He reached up with his left hand and cupped Cas' face, looking into his eyes. "You're the best."

Cas' cheeks began to flush red. Dean closed his eyes and leaned in, pressing his lips to Cas'. Cas parted his lips slightly, and Dean took the chance to slip his tongue into Cas' mouth. Cas immediately felt his dick start to rise as he pushed his tongue back against Dean's.

Dean pulled back and just stared at him.

"What?" Cas asked.

"Just looking at your eyes," Dean mumbled, becoming embarrassed. "They're so blue."

Cas smiled and lowered his head onto Dean's chest. Dean wrapped his arms around him and inhaled his scent, feeling himself beginning to get drowsy.

A few minutes passed and Cas lifted his head as he felt Dean begin to lean backwards. "Dean?"

Dean settled back and stretched, smacking his lips tiredly.

Cas smiled and rolled over onto his back as well, closing his eyes. "Goodnight, Dean."


	9. Chapter 9

When Dean awoke, Cas was already gone. He wasn't having any withdrawals, so Cas must have woken him to give him some pills at some point during the night, although he didn't remember it. He immediately grabbed his phone and texted Sam, as it was already eleven. After receiving confirmation Sam was fine, he sat up in bed and lit a cigarette. As he smoked, he looked around and noticed a note on Cas' desk.

_Dean-_

_I'll be back around 3. Eat anything you want. See you soon._

He set the note back down on the table and leaned back, taking another drag off his cigarette. After he snuffed it out, he decided to take a shower. He grabbed a towel and washcloth and started the water. He slid out of his pajama bottoms and boxers, then pulled his shirt over his head. Once the water had reached a reasonable temperature, he stepped in.

As the water ran through his hair and down his back, his thoughts once again drifted to Cas. He lathered and rinsed his hair, then started washing his body. Once he got below the belt, he couldn't help but remember Cas' lips wrapped around his dick the other day. He had never had a blowjob that amazing before. Most of the girls he had dated or hooked up with weren't too interested in that, and it showed.

As he replayed the night in his head, he began to get an erection. This time, he didn't fight it, and he immediately took hold of it and got to work.

* * *

"As you can see here..."

Cas sat slumped in his desk, his chin resting on his fist as his elbow propped him upright. His teacher was rambling on about something, but he wasn't listening. He couldn't stop thinking about Dean.

He wanted to help him, but he didn't exactly seem interested. He was trying to help wean him off and get through his withdrawals by giving him his own pain medication, but the night before Dean had refused and instead went and shot up somewhere. He was disappointed, worried, and honestly, a little angry. He also felt guilty for wishing he could just be happy that they'd finally expressed their feelings for each other, instead of sitting there worrying if Dean was going to die.

The bell rang, signaling time for lunch. As he sat down at an empty table with his food, he heard, "Heads up, Novak!"

He knew better than to turn around. He braced for impact as a spoonful of mashed potatoes smacked him in the back of the head. He grumbled to himself and worked on eating his own potatoes.

"Whassa matter, Cassie?" someone yelled. "Don't like potatoes?"

He ignored them, and, although they continued to snicker for a few minutes, they then left him alone. He hurriedly finished his lunch and headed to the bathroom to clean off the back of his head. He gripped the sink and leaned forward, staring hard at himself in the mirror. He couldn't understand why people hated him so much just because of what he did in the bedroom. Why did it matter?

He shook his head and headed towards the library. He was just thankful that he only had two more classes after lunch. He had always liked school, but as the years went on, his schoolmates had become unusually cruel. Now that he was beginning a new school year without Dean, he was dreading each day.

* * *

Dean stepped out of the shower and dried off. Walking back to the bedroom, he just enjoyed being naked for a while. He went to lay in bed and realized he had kind of stunk it up with all his sweating, so he decided to change the sheets. He finished by topping it off with a clean blanket and flopping face first into bed. "Oh, god," he groaned. The feeling of the clean sheets against his clean skin was like heaven. He felt like he was on a cloud. The only thing that would make this better was...

_Cas._

He lifted his head and stared off at the doorway. While that _had_ been his first thought, heroin was a quick second. He scrambled up and grabbed his gear.

He sat at Cas' desk, dissolved the powder in some water, and prepared the shot. Once he was finished, he withdrew the needle and quickly shoved it into his duffel bag and flopped back onto the bed. Crawling under the blanket, he stared at the ceiling, letting out a long, wavering moan. He literally felt like he was floating, flying through the clouds up to heaven where god was waiting with some classic rock and plenty of alcohol.

When he came to, he realized he was starving. He headed down to the kitchen and, feeling lazy, ate a bowl of cereal. He anxiously stared at the clock. It was only one. Wandering back upstairs, his eyes fell on Cas' acoustic guitar, propped up in the corner of the room. He hadn't played in forever; not since his dad had smashed his in a drunken rage.

He grabbed it and sat down on the bed, strumming a few cords. He tightened the strings and tried again. It sounded much better this time. Cas didn't play it much, so it had fallen out of tune. He played around for a while with random songs and cords, since he hadn't practiced in so long. It was nice to enjoy some time to himself.

* * *

Cas stepped off the bus and onto the sidewalk, relief washing over him as the bus pulled off. Another school day over. As he walked down the street, his house slowly came into view. He was happy to see the Impala still in the driveway. He unlocked the door and closed it behind him. He heard music coming from upstairs. Good music- Tom Petty to be precise. It sounded like his guitar. Then he heard Dean's voice.

_"...But let me get to the point,  
_ _let's roll another joint  
_ _and turn the radio loud  
_ _I'm too alone to be proud  
_ _'N you don't know how it feels...  
_ _You don't know how it feels... to be meeee"_

He headed up the stairs and creeped towards his doorway, peering around the corner. Dean was sitting cross-legged on the bed in only jeans and socks, back to the door, playing Cas' guitar.

_"People come, people go  
_ _Some grow young, some grow cold  
_ _I woke up in between  
_ _A memory and a dream"_

Cas could've melted. His voice was heavenly. He never knew Dean could sing. He was even whistling the parts where the harmonica was supposed to play.

_"You don't know how it feels...  
_ _No, you don't know how it feels... to be meeee"_

Dean set the guitar against the bed and sighed. "Hey," Cas said, acting like he'd just shown up.

Dean jumped up and turned around, his face growing red. "Hey! Uhh... how was school?"

Cas shrugged. "School." He paused. "I didn't know you could sing."

"I can't," Dean scoffed.

Cas' eyes widened. "Uh, yeah, you can. When I first came in I thought you got into my parents records," he laughed.

Dean gave a small smile. "Thanks."

Cas walked over to his desk and opened the top drawer. "Man, I need to smoke." He packed a bowl and took a decent hit, passing it to Dean. "I need to get more today." Dean puffed on the bowl as Cas dialed Crowley.

"Yes?"

"Hey, it's Cas. Can I come by for a bag?"

"How much?"

"I need an o."

"Sure thing. See you soon." There was a click as Crowley hung up.

Cas opened his bottom drawer and pulled out an envelope filled with money. He removed a bunch of twenty dollars bills and shoved them into his trench coat pocket. Dean pulled a shirt on, quickly grabbing some money out of his bag. He threw on his jacket and they headed out the door.

Crowley cracked the door open. "Oh, look at you two, how cute."

 _"What?"_ Dean blurted out.

Cas rolled his eyes, pushing past Crowley into the living room. "He's just being a jerk."

Crowley closed the door behind them. "You're too kind, Cassie."

Cas shot him a look. He knew that Crowley didn't give a shit that he was gay, but he hated that nickname for obvious reasons.

Crowley grabbed the ounce off the table and handed it to Cas, who in return handed him the money. As Crowley finished counting it, he turned to Dean. "And I believe this little squirrel owes me four nuts."

Dean reached into his pocket and handed Crowley twenty-four dollars. "Can I get another one?" he asked quietly.

Cas turned to look at him. "Dean."

Dean ignored him, focusing on Crowley as he pulled a bag from inside his jacket and handed it to Dean. "Okay boys, enjoy. Ta-ta." He held up his hand and waggled his fingers.

That was their cue to leave, as Crowley was obviously busy with something, so they headed out and climbed into the car. The ride was quiet except for the radio. Back at Cas', they returned upstairs and as Cas sat down at his desk, Dean went straight into the bathroom. He didn't return for another twenty minutes. When he did, he flopped face-down on the bed.

"Dean," Cas said. He got no response. _"Dean."_

"Huh?" Dean pushed himself up to look at Cas.

"We need to talk." He paused. "I'm trying to help you, give you an opportunity to wean yourself off with prescriptions because I know you won't go to rehab, but you keep buying street drugs from Crowley. You said you didn't want to do this anymore." Dean was quiet as he tried to formulate a response. "I want to help you, Dean, I really do," he said quietly. "But you can't turn me into an enabler."

Dean nodded. "I'm sorry."

Cas held his hand out. "So...can I have it?"

"Have what?"

"The rest of your shit." Dean reached into his jacket pocket and handed it over to Cas, who put it in his own pocket. "You know I'll help you through the withdrawals."

"I know," Dean mumbled.

"I've got some homework to do." He paused. "I wouldn't mind listening to you play while I work."

Dean smiled weakly and reached behind him for the guitar. He crossed his legs on the bed and started to play and sing.

_"I hurt myself today, to see if I still feel  
_ _I focus on the pain, the only thing that's real  
_ _the needle tears a hole, the old familiar sting  
_ _try to kill it all away, but I remember everything  
_ _what have I become, my sweetest friend?  
_ _everyone I love, goes away, in the end  
_ _and you can have it all, my empire of dirt  
_ _I will let you down, I will make you hurt  
_ _if I could start again, a million miles away..."_

Cas stared down at his book, unable to focus. Dean's voice was actually hauntingly beautiful, and of course the lyrics were making Cas think of what was going on with Dean. He slammed his book closed and Dean stopped abruptly.

"I'm sorry," Cas said, "but this will have to wait. I can't concentrate right now."

"I'll stop," Dean offered.

"If you want, but that's not why I can't concentrate."

Dean leaned back and put the guitar back where he'd gotten it from. "What's up?"

"I dunno," Cas shrugged, lighting a cigarette and holding one out to Dean. As much as he felt like they had bigger problems, he couldn't get it off his mind.

"C'mon, talk to me," Dean urged, reaching out to take the cigarette and lighting it up.

Cas was quiet for a moment before finally he asked, "What, exactly... are we?"

Dean took a deep breath. "I don't know... What makes you ask that though?"

Cas shrugged again. "I'm not trying to pressure you or anything. I'm just wondering where we stand, is all."

"Well..." Dean looked down into his lap. "What do you want us to be?" he asked, his voice low, nervously picking at his fingernails.

Cas was quiet. He wanted to yell, _I want to be your boyfriend, I want you to be mine and only mine. I've been in love with you since the seventh grade and you drive me fucking crazy._ He sighed and settled for the simple truth. "I would like to be with you, Dean," he admitted.

Dean felt his face growing hot and his stomach flip. He looked up at Cas, who looked scared as shit. He smiled nervously and said, "Yeah... I'd like that too."

Cas' face cracked open into a wide grin and he jumped up and pushed Dean backwards on the bed, climbing on top of him and giving him a long, deep kiss.

Dean laughed nervously into his mouth and Cas rolled off. "Sorry."

"It's okay," he said quickly. "Honestly I just get super nervous and... self-conscious," he admitted.

"Don't be Dean, I think you are perfect! You're my best friend... I already know you inside and out."

Dean felt his face growing hot again and his cock start to stiffen. Cas felt Deans erection pressing against his leg. He smiled mischievously down at Dean. "Do you want to fool around?" he asked shyly.

"Yeah," Dean croaked.

Cas leaned down and kissed him roughly, causing Dean's dick to spring the rest of the way up. Dean lifted his arms and wrapped them around his shoulders, kissing him back.

Cas made his way down to Dean's waist, trailing kisses down his neck and chest. Dean shuddered and arched his back. Cas unbuttoned his jeans and slipped his fingers under the waist of Dean's boxers, sliding both down.

Dean reached down and grabbed his cock, tugging on it slowly. Cas loved the view, but he wanted to do this himself. He took Dean's dick in his hand and Dean let his hand fall limply to the side. Cas leaned down and flicked his tongue over the slit a few times before swirling his tongue around the rest of the head. He then ducked down and licked his shaft from the base to the tip, before taking all of Dean in his mouth.

Dean shuddered and gasped, grabbing onto the blankets and bucking his hips. "Jesus," he whimpered, lifting his head to look down at Cas.

Cas lifted his head and quickly said, "Actually, it's _Cas_ ," before diving back down.

Dean tossed his head back and tried to stifle a moan. Cas slowed down a little bit, slowly bobbing up and down, tugging the base with his hand in unison. He moaned onto Dean's cock, and the vibrations made Dean shiver and squirm. He lifted his head. "Cas," he said breathlessly.

Cas raised his eyes and eyebrows but didn't stop.

"Can we um... can we, y'know... have sex?" he mumbled.

Cas stopped and lifted his head, staring straight into Dean's eyes, brows furrowed. Dean swallowed and shifted his eyes around nervously. "I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have-"

"No, it's not that, Dean," Cas interrupted. He'd wanted this forever- there was no way he was going to say no. He shook his head and leaned over Dean, looking closer. "I just want to make sure it's _you_ asking that... not the drugs."

He reached up and put his hands on Cas' waist. "Yeah, no, no... it's me," he assured him. "I really want to." He paused. "But, um... could I possibly... be on top?" he asked, wincing a little as it came out of his mouth.

Cas nodded, climbing off and sitting back against the pillows and headboard. Dean sat up and crawled over to him, kissing him softly. He then nuzzled his head in Cas' neck, flicking his tongue out for little licks, before putting his lips to his neck and sucking and nibbling just long enough to leave a mark.

Cas shuddered. "Holy shit, Dean," he breathed.

Dean stopped. "Should... do I need a condom?"

Cas took a second before answering. "Be honest with me, Dean. Have you shared needles?"

"No, never. I swear."

Cas could tell he was being truthful. He shook his head. "Don't worry about it."

"Okay, so... umm." Dean hesitated, then looked up at Cas. "Fuck," he let out a laugh, shaking his head. "I'm so fucking nervous. I- I don't even know where to start..."

"Just do what you would do with a girl," Cas said softly, blushing.

"Uhh... okay. Lay back," he instructed.

Cas shimmied down the bed so he was lying flat underneath Dean. Dean lowered himself down and kissed Cas as he ran his right hand down his side, down his thigh, around to his ass. He grabbed a handful and squeezed hard.

"Mmmm." Cas closed his eyes and craned his neck as Dean planted soft kisses along his throat.

Dean lifted his head and brought his right hand back up to cup Cas' face, playing with his bottom lip with his thumb. Cas reached up, took Dean's hand in both of his, and stuck Dean's index and middle finger in his mouth. He swirled his tongue around them, then pulled them back out with a generous coating of saliva.

A lightbulb went off in Dean's head, understanding now what he was supposed to do next. But _jesus_ did it make his stomach knot up. He wanted this just as much as Cas though, so there was no turning back now. He buried his face in Cas' neck, slowly reached down between his legs, underneath his balls, and felt the ring of muscle. He felt Cas hold him a little tighter. He pressed lightly and felt Cas shudder, which gave him the confidence to insert his index finger.

Cas gasped and nuzzled his face into Dean's hair, inhaling his scent. Even though he was using Cas' soap and shampoo, he still smelled like _Dean_.

Dean curled his finger towards Cas' belly and Cas gasped and bucked his hips. "Holy shit," he squeaked.

Dean smiled into his neck and inserted his middle finger as well, lifting his head up and kissing Cas. God, his lips were _so_ soft.

They kissed for a few minutes as Dean played with him, enjoying the feeling of Cas squirming beneath him in pleasure. He then pulled his fingers out and whispered, "Roll over."

Cas obeyed and rolled onto his stomach. Dean grabbed his hips and pulled his ass up into the air, burying Cas' face in the pillow. Cas turned his head to the side so he could breathe. Dean grabbed one cheek in each hand, squeezing. "Wait... do you have lube?"

Cas nodded. "Bottom drawer."

Dean leaned over to the desk and yanked the drawer open, grabbing the lube. He squirted some onto his dick and lined himself up. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He then re-opened them and asked, "Are you ready?"

"Yes."

He couldn't believe he was about to do this. He leaned over Cas and planted his left hand on the bed next to Cas' shoulder for support, holding his dick with his right hand. He slowly pressed the tip to Cas' hole and he felt him press himself backwards up against him. He groaned and slowly pushed himself in.

Cas let out a long sigh and buried his face back in the pillow. Dean slowly thrust in and out, scared he might hurt Cas. "You okay?" he asked.

Cas let out a muffled moan into the pillow, which turned Dean on like crazy. He began to pick up the speed, gripping Cas' hips tighter. Cas grabbed fistfuls of pillow, moaning as Dean filled him up entirely. Dean put his right hand on Cas' side and slid it across his stomach and down to his dick. Taking it in his hand, he began to pump in rhythm with his thrusting.

Cas turned his head again so he could breathe. "Oh, fuck!"

Dean looked towards him, and Cas met his gaze, his eyes drooping. "Does that feel good?" Dean asked.

"Yes," Cas panted. "Very."

Dean slowed down for a minute and Cas whimpered, which nearly drove Dean over the edge. He sped up again, his balls smacking against Cas', twisting and tugging on his dick. He felt Cas start to twitch and tense, groaning through gritted teeth. "Oh, god..."

Finally Cas let out a loud gasp as he came all over the bedspread and Dean's hand. As he did so, all his muscles clenched up, which caused Dean to empty into Cas with a loud grunt.

Dean slowly pulled out and laid down next to Cas, who opened his eyes and looked into Dean's. "That was amazing," he mumbled.

"It was," Dean nodded.

Cas slid closer to Dean, who put his arm around him. "Would you like to take a shower together?"

Dean nodded and they headed off into the bathroom. They were both exhausted, so they strictly washed up and headed back to the bedroom. Climbing underneath the blanket, which Cas had to change again, Cas flicked on the TV and laid his head on Dean's chest.

Dean's thoughts were all over the place. He couldn't believe he had just had sex with another man. It was amazing, though. He definitely didn't regret it, but he couldn't help feeling like things had just changed for him forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs Used:  
> [Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers - You Don't Know How it Feels (1994)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9TlBTPITo1I)  
> [Nine Inch Nails - Hurt (1994)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=prDoGmY5kj8)


	10. Chapter 10

Dean woke up to Cas shaking him gently. "Hey, wake up."

Dean rolled over groggily, slowly opening his eyes. "Hmm?"

"You're sweating and shaking. Here," he said flatly, holding out two pills.

Cas handed him a glass of water and Dean threw the pills back, took a sip, and set the glass on Cas' desk. "What time is it?" he asked sluggishly.

"Six," Cas replied. "I'm getting ready for school. Want some breakfast?"

"Uh... sure," Dean replied. "Thanks." He slowly rose out of bed and followed Cas downstairs, where the table was already set and pancakes, eggs, bacon, and orange juice all sat in the middle. "Damn, Cas," Dean said as he pulled out a chair and sat down, eyes wide.

Cas chuckled. "You know I like to cook. I just never have a reason to unless you're here. My appetite certainly can't match yours."

Seeing and smelling all the food suddenly made Dean realize just how little he had eaten over the past week. He began piling food onto his plate as Cas sat across from him, eating an apple and reading a textbook.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Dean asked around a mouthful of eggs.

"Yeah, I just need to finish this really quick before I leave." He paused and raised his eyes up to look up at Dean. "I didn't exactly get to finish it last night." He smirked.

Dean grinned and continued shoveling food in his mouth.

After about ten minutes, Cas closed the book and tossed it onto the counter behind him. He fixed himself a plate of some eggs and bacon and began to eat, chewing slowly.

"Do you need me to do anything around here while you're gone?" Dean asked, looking around the kitchen. "Besides these dishes, obviously." He took another bite of pancakes.

"You don't need to do anything Dean, although it would be helpful. Anything you see that you feel like doing is fine, I guess. Thank you." He smiled and turned his attention back to his plate.

Dean shook his head and swallowed his mouthful of food. "No, thank _you_. For letting me stay here, for smoking me up, for making me food..." He trailed off. "I don't deserve you," he added softly.

"Stop it," Cas said. "Stop putting yourself down all the time. You're great." He looked up at the clock. "Ugh, I have to go wait for the bus."

"Why don't I drive you in?" Dean suggested. "I'm already up."

"That would be nice."

Dean ran upstairs to get dressed as Cas finished his food, dreading going to school. This was going to be a long year...

Dean came down the stairs wearing a white tee shirt, a long-sleeve flannel with the sleeves rolled up and the buttons undone, and his normal jeans and boots. "Fuck, Dean," Cas muttered. "You look great."

He smiled and let out a small, nervous laugh. "Thanks. Ready to go?"

Cas nodded. He handed Dean a key that he had taken off his key ring. "Put this on yours, it's a spare." They headed out the front door and Cas locked it behind him. As they climbed into the car, Dean turned to him and said, "Maybe we should say our goodbye here."

Cas nodded. He understood, even though it made him sad. Dean leaned in and placed his hand on the back of Cas' neck, giving him a long kiss. "I hope you have a good day," he said when they broke apart.

"Thank you Dean," Cas smiled.

After Dean dropped Cas off, he took a minute to text Sam before pulling off. _'hey, how are things?'_

_'good. really. don't worry about me dean, worry about yourself. somebody besides me and cas needs to.'_

Dean frowned. He knew Sam wasn't saying it to be mean, he meant it seriously; that Dean needed stop worrying so much about his brother when he couldn't even take care of himself. But he couldn't stop worrying. He would never stop worrying about Sammy. He didn't reply, just started the car and drove back to Cas'. The pills Cas had given him were making him a little drowsy, so he went upstairs to take a nap.

He awoke two hours later to a text message. He squinted at the phone through sleep-eyes. It was Lisa. _'can we talk?'_

He shook his head in shock. He almost didn't want to reply, but while he didn't want what he had with Cas to end, he did love Lisa. They had been together for two years, after all. He couldn't help but feel a bit bitter over this random text, though. _'about what? i havent heard from you since you dumped me 5 days ago and if i remember correctly you called me a worthless piece of shit'_ He hit send and tossed the phone down on the bed, lighting a cigarette. _Fuckin' women_ , he thought.

Finally his phone dinged again and he quickly opened the message. _'i know. and i'm sorry. but i need to talk to u. where are u?'_

_'i'm at cas' place'_

_'do u want to meet at the park down the street from there? if so be there at 11'_

He set the phone down and took a long drag off his cigarette. What the hell could she possibly want?

* * *

Cas stared absentmindedly at the chalk board, unable to focus. He couldn't stop thinking about the night before. How it was amazing and everything he had hoped it would be. He must've had a smile plastered to his face because the kid next to him leaned over and hissed, "Daydreaming about your _boyfriend_ , Cassie?" The kid in front of him snickered.

"Fuck off," Cas snapped.

"Ooooh, we got a fiesty one over here," the second one joked.

Cas rolled his eyes and faced forward again. _And it's only second period_ , he thought.

* * *

The quiet stillness of the park, which was surprisingly empty for a Tuesday afternoon, was interrupted by the roar of the Impala pulling into the parking lot. Dean stepped out and closed the door behind him, looking around. He spotted Lisa on a park bench and made his way over, lighting a cigarette. He sat down to her right. "Hey."

"Hey," she said solemnly. "You look... better. How are you doing?"

He shrugged. "What is this about?"

"Well..." She trailed off. "Honestly, I wanted to see if maybe we could.. I don't know, try again... I've really missed you."

He frowned. "I don't know, Lisa..." When he had needed her the most, she had kicked him to the curb. Cas was there to pick up the pieces. "What's changed all of the sudden?" He flicked his cigarette butt onto the ground and turned to her.

She looked down into her lap as she fiddled with her fingers nervously. "Well... honestly..." She lifted her head and as she made eye contact, Dean noticed her eyes were welling up with tears. "I don't know how to say this so I'm just going to say it. I'm pregnant."

" _What?!_ " His eyes widened and he looked around wildly, trying to absorb the information. Hoping someone would jump out with a video camera and tell him it was a joke. It _had_ to be a joke, right? He turned back to her and hesitated before asking quietly, "Are... are you sure it's mine?"

Before she could think, she reached out and slapped him. "What the fuck are you trying to say?" she yelled.

His head jerked sideways from the force but he didn't react. He just lowered his head. "Sorry."

She reached up and touched his face with her right hand, and he flinched slightly. Brushing his cheek with her thumb, she wiped tears off of her own face with her left. "I'm sorry, too." She sniffled, dropping her hand. "I'm just- obviously- suuuuper emotional right now."

"W- what the fuck are we going to do?" he sputtered, panic beginning to set in. He felt like he was going to vomit. The lovely breakfast Cas had made for them would be scattered all along the grass.

She sighed. "I don't know what I'm doing yet, Dean. But... I wanted to tell you. If I keep the baby, I would like you to be in it's life, but..." She paused. "I don't expect anything of you. I know this wasn't our intention." She absentmindedly rubbed and squeezed her left arm with her right hand, looking away from him.

"How do you know? You're absolutely certain? ...Didn't we use rubbers?" he babbled, his mind racing. They had only broken up less than a week ago, but they hadn't had sex for over a month before that. He didn't understand how this was possible.

"Yes, Dean. They break sometimes... and yes, I'm sure. I had an actual blood test done at the doctor... I- I'm seven weeks along."

Dean groaned and hung his head in his hands. "This is fucking horrible."

"I know," she said quietly. "I think you know what I'm going to do, Dean. But I need to be sure before I make that decision. And I didn't want to make it without consulting you."

He swallowed and nodded. "Do what you have to do, Lisa. You know I would be a shit father." He looked down and away.

She frowned, resting her right hand on his shoulder. "You're a good man, Dean. But you need to get your shit together... for your own sake." She sniffled and wiped her eyes again.

"Just, please... keep me posted, okay? And... let me know if you need anything."

She nodded and stood up. He stood up as well and they embraced in a hug. "I'll talk to you soon," she said.

"Alright... take care." They parted ways and Dean climbed into the Impala, closing the door behind him. He let out a long sigh. He wanted to yell and scream and cry and punch shit but instead he just threw the car into drive and peeled off towards Crowley's house.

"Squirrel," Crowley said as he answered the door, eyebrows raised in surprise. "You know how I feel about stopping by unannounced."

"I'm really sorry man but my life is just completely fucked right now and I seriously need right now please-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Crowley said calmly, holding his hands out to stop Dean. "Calm down. What have you got for me?"

Dean pushed fifty dollars into his chest.

"Okay, that'll certainly do. Just..." He sighed, looking behind him. "Wait here."

As Dean noticed another man in the house with him, Crowley closed the door in his face. Dean grumbled and shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels impatiently. What in reality was only sixty seconds, seemed to him like sixty minutes. Finally Crowley opened the door back up and shoved a baggie- larger than what he usually got- into his hand. "Now shoo." He waved his hand at him dismissively and started to close the door, but stopped. "And fucking call next time," he growled, slamming the door.

Dean flew back to Cas' as quickly as possible. He couldn't believe this was happening. Things were finally starting to get better, and now his _ex_ was _pregnant_? Did she only want to make things work because of the kid? He didn't want them both to be miserable. All they ever did was fight. And how the fuck were they going to take care of a kid, anyway? Lisa was only eighteen and still in school. He was a drug-addicted, unemployed, high school dropout and in seven and a half months an actual child would be here and _relying_ on him. He would be a horrible father! The thought made him queasy again, and he had to pull over to vomit on the side of the road.

Back at Cas', he quickly unlocked the front door and bolted up the stairs, digging through his bag for the remainder of the box of needles. Locating it on the bottom, he ran into the bathroom and grabbed a cup and a small amount of water. He anxiously waited for the powder to dissolve. Once it did, he sucked the liquid up into the needle. His left arm was becoming red and itchy, so he switched to his right arm. It took a minute before he could get the vein, being right-handed, but he got it. As he withdrew the needle, he leaned back against the bathroom door, welcoming the wave. Everything melted away and he soon nodded off.

He came to about forty-five minutes later. He slowly stumbled up and made his way to the bedroom, falling onto the bed face-first. He had forgotten about the situation for the time being, which was exactly his intent. He napped for about an hour, snoring loudly, before waking up again to the sound of his phone going off.

 _'hey, are you picking me up or should i take the bus?'_ It was Cas.

Dean bit his lip, checking the time. It was 2 o'clock, and school let out in twenty minutes. _'i dont think i can get there that fast, can you take the bus and ill meet you at the house?'_ he wrote back. He didn't want to tell Cas that he was home, but couldn't get up and drive because he was using. And if he picked Cas up anyway and Cas figured out, which he knew he would, he would be _pissed_.

_'no problem, see you soon :3'_

His stomach fluttered at the little happy face Cas had ended his text with. But _fuck_ , this shit with Lisa... He was so confused, his head was swimming. He couldn't think about it anymore. He made his way back to the bathroom and grabbed his gear. He shot up a second time, this time in the bed so he wouldn't nod out in the bathroom, but he was so fucked he couldn't even withdraw the needle before slipping off again into the great beyond.

He woke up to Cas shaking him. _"Dean!"_

His eyes fluttered open and Cas let out a loud sigh. "Oh thank god, Dean. I thought you were fucking dead," he muttered, relief washing over his face, his eyes watering. The relief quickly turned to anger.

Dean sat up, rubbing his face. "Fuck, Cas, I- I'm sorry... I just..." He stopped, staring off across the room as everything from the last twenty-four hours replayed in his head. The sex with Cas, their lovely breakfast, Lisa... Oh god, Lisa. How the hell was he supposed to tell his boyfriend that his ex was pregnant? Should he even tell him yet? Lisa had said she might be terminating the pregnancy.

"What?" Cas asked angrily. After the day he'd had at school, coming home to see Dean using in his bed, of all places, with the needle still in his arm, was the last thing he'd needed. The only thing that had gotten him through the day was the thought of their amazing night the day before, the breakfast they shared before Dean drove him in, and the thought of seeing him again as soon as school let out. And then he came home to... this.

"I... I don't really want to talk about it right now," Dean muttered, looking away.

"Then when are we going to talk about it, Dean? After you're _dead_? You just passed out with a fucking needle in your arm for fuck's sake!" he yelled, fists clenched.

Now Dean was getting angry, mostly because he knew Cas was right. But avoiding the truth was kind of just what Dean did. He stood up. "Look man, you're not my fucking keeper, alright?" he snapped, pointing at him accusingly. "You're my best friend but you need to _back off_. I'm a big boy. I can make my own decisions."

He could see the hurt in Cas' narrowed eyes. "It's not always about you, Dean!" he spat back, his voice wavering. "Yeah, you can do what you want, but I told you already, you can't force me to enable you. How do you think it's going to effect me when I find you fucking dead because you OD'd, just like I found my brother?! I can't go through that again, Dean. I just can't." He paused and crossed his arms. "I- I won't." He glared at him through narrowed eyes and Dean could tell he was holding back tears.

"I- I'm sorry," Dean mumbled, his body language loosening. "I didn't know." He had had no idea that Cas was the one to discover his dead brother. Now he felt like a total dick, even more so than usual.

"Well now you do," Cas muttered angrily.

"Maybe I should go," Dean said quietly.

"Maybe you should," Cas grumbled, looking away.

Dean's face fell as Cas' words hit him like a ton of bricks. He quickly grabbed his bag off the floor and slung it over his shoulder. Without a word, he slipped past Cas and out into the hallway.

Cas stood holding his breath until he heard the front door close. He then collapsed into his desk chair and dropped his head into his crossed arms, finally allowing himself to cry. He should've known this wasn't the right time for this, and it probably never would be. He was just fucking Dean up more mentally which in turn caused him to use more. He lifted his head and wiped his face with his hands, sniffling. He should've just told Dean years ago, when they were fourteen and while things may not have been easy, they sure as hell weren't as hard as they were now.

_"Maybe you should."_

He'd regretted those words the moment they had come out of his mouth. Now all he could think about as he paced back and forth in his room was where Dean was and if he was okay. Cas felt angry and guilty and scared. He grabbed his phone and tried calling Dean.

_carry on my wayward son, there'll be peace when you are done, lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry no more_

Cas spun around and his heart dropped as he saw Dean's phone going off on his desk. He quickly grabbed his trench coat and threw it on, grabbed Dean's phone, and ran out the door. He had to find him.

Dean flew down the road as Bad Company blasted on the radio. He had nowhere to go, so he went to the only place he knew where he could be alone- their wooded trail. He angrily wiped his eyes and sniffled hard, feeling like a total bitch. He was tired of fucking crying. He was tired of letting himself be happy only to have it ruined instantly, leaving him feeling worse than before. He pulled in around the corner and parked, flopping his head forward into the steering wheel with a thud. It was all his fault, anyway. If he wasn't such a fuck-up, he wouldn't be in this mess. He shouldn't have snapped at Cas. What he said was the truth, and he was just too much of a pussy to face it. Why couldn't he just get struck by lightening and it would all be over already?

He reached around into the back and grabbed his bag. Pulling out the baggie he had bought from Crowley and a fresh needle, he mixed up another shot, bigger this time. This time he really wanted to fly, and he honestly didn't care if he didn't wake up.


	11. Chapter 11

Cas bolted out the front door and into the driveway. He looked around frantically, panic rising in his gut, trying to figure out which way Dean could have gone. Pulling out his phone, he quickly dialed Crowley.

"What?" Crowley snapped as he answered.

"Crowley," Cas croaked. "Have you seen Dean? It's an emergency."

"Oh my god, what is it with you two?" Crowley sighed in exasperation. "No. I haven't seen him since this afternoon."

"Call me immediately if you see or hear from him," Cas said quickly. He hung up before Crowley could respond and called Sam.

"Hey Cas, what's up?"

"Sam. Have you heard from Dean?"

"Not since like eight this morning... why? What's going on?" Sam asked. He could hear the urgency in Cas' voice.

"He... he's just not in a great state of mind right now, Sam. He took off and left his phone and I'm seriously worried right now. Call me right away if you hear from him or see him, please," Cas begged.

"Of course, Cas. But where would he even go? He's not here."

Cas thought back and suddenly he remembered when he had found Dean in the Impala in the woods on Friday. "I'll call you back," he said quickly before hanging up and taking off running towards the trail.

The stretch to the mouth of the woods felt like the longest run of his life. He slowed to catch his breath as he turned onto the dirt road. Once the fire in his lungs started to subside, he took off running again. His hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat and his throat was dry and cracked. As he turned the corner, relief washed over him as he saw the back end of the Impala a few hundred yards away. He slowed down a bit and tried to catch his breath as he walked the rest of the way to the car. He could hear The Rolling's Stones playing from the radio.

_I look inside myself and see my heart is black_   
_I see my red door and must have it painted black_

As he approached the window, thinking of how he would apologize, his stomach dropped as he realized Dean was slumped over in the driver's seat. He yanked the door open, grabbed the front of his jacket and started shaking him. "Dean! _Dean!_ " When he got no response, he reached his hand up and slapped him. "Come back to me, Dean!" he yelled.

_Maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the facts_   
_It's not easy facing up when your whole world is black_

Still nothing. " _Shit shit shit._ " He let go of Dean's jacket and Dean fell back limply into the seat. Cas could see his chest slowly rising and falling. He was still breathing. He quickly pulled out his cell phone and dialed 911.

"911 what's the location of your emergency?" the dispatcher answered.

"Uhh, Lawrence, Kansas, in the woods, down an old dirt road near the intersection of Sycamore and Evergreen."

"And what's your emergency?"

"My friend, he's unresponsive. I think he's overdosed," he said quickly.

_No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue_

"Okay, do you know what substance?" she asked.

"Yes, yes, heroin," he said, trying to tell himself to remain calm.

"Okay we are going to send somebody right away. Do you know CPR?"

"Yes," Cas replied, closing his eyes tight. He couldn't believe this was happening.

_I could not foresee this thing happening to you_

"I want you to stay with him and if he stops breathing, perform CPR. Do you understand?"

"Yes, but I- I don't know if the ambulance can access this road. I need to bring him to the main road," he said quickly.

"You do that. Call us back if necessary."

_If I look hard enough into the setting sun_   
_My love will laugh with me before the morning comes_

He hung up and shoved the phone in his pocket. Leaning into the car, he grabbed Dean by the front of his jacket and dragged him out of the car. He grabbed Dean under his arms and struggled to throw him over his shoulder. _Fuck_ , he was heavy. He trudged down the trail, and the farther he was from the Impala, the heavier Dean seemed. He began to feel like he was walking in quick sand, but he continued on. Finally he heard sirens, and as he arrived near the main road, an ambulance pulled up.

Cas fell to his knees and laid Dean on the ground as the paramedics unloaded from the vehicle. He backed away and watched numbly as they brought out the Narcan kit and one of the paramedics jabbed the needle directly into the meat of his shoulder. Cas couldn't even cry. He was in shock. He couldn't believe he was reliving his worst nightmare.

The following three minutes were the longest of Castiel's life. Suddenly Dean's eyes flew open and he gasped so loud, it was almost as if his soul had just ricocheted back into his body.

"Oh, thank fucking god," Cas groaned. He took a step forward but the paramedics blocked his way.

"We need space."

He backed off and watched from behind as Dean slowly came to and they checked his vitals.

Dean felt like he had been hit by a truck. The last thing he remembered, he was floating, in infinite blackness, and he had never been so happy. The next moment, he was lying on the ground covered in sweat, surrounded by people, and he'd never been in so much pain. He sat up and lurched forward, vomiting all over the ground.

The paramedics backed up as Dean dragged the back of his hand across his mouth, breathing heavily. He literally felt like he was dead, and at that point he wished he was. Cas, noticing they had backed away, swooped in and wrapped his arms around Dean and helped keep him propped up.

He smiled weakly. "Cas..." He dropped his head forward onto Cas' shoulder. In return Cas squeezed him tighter and rested his head on Dean's. He pulled back when Dean began mumbling into his shoulder.

"What?"

"I'm sorry... I hurt you. You deserve... so much better... than this."

Cas was quiet and pulled Dean in again, squeezing him tighter. Sometimes silence could say so much more than words could. Dean slowly lifted his arms and weakly hugged Cas back.

"Thank you... for coming after me," Dean whispered.

"I always will," Cas replied, pulling back and smiling, then leaning in and pressing his lips to Deans. Dean melted into him, forgetting he was on the side of the road with paramedics and a number of nosy passers-by watching.

After they pulled apart, one of the paramedics stepped forward and took Dean's wrist, checking his pulse. She then used a stethoscope to listen to his breathing. "We're going to need to get you loaded up."

"What?" Dean rasped.

"You should really come with us," she insisted.

He shook his head. "No... I'm not doing that."

"Dean, maybe you should," Cas said gently.

"No," he repeated. "I don't even have... insurance... and I'm not going... to the fucking hospital."

"I'm going to have to insist," the paramedic said flatly.

Cas looked between the two of them, torn between what to do. Finally he opened his mouth. "I'm pretty sure he has the right to refuse treatment." He heard one of the paramedics behind them scoff, and he suddenly felt defensive.

The rest of the paramedics climbed back into the ambulance and the one who had insisted on further treatment knelt down and placed her hand on his shoulder. "Get yourself some help, kid, otherwise this is exactly how it will end. And it would've if your friend here hadn't found you. You're still young. Don't throw it all away. " She turned to Cas. "Naloxone only works for thirty to ninety minutes. Depending on how much he took, once it wears off, he could overdose again. I don't think it's likely, since he was still breathing when we got here, but keep an eye on him for the next two hours and if he is losing consciousness again, drive him to the emergency room, okay?" Cas nodded and she stood up. "Oh, and since it blocks opioids, he's probably going to feel withdrawal symptoms. I cannot stress enough the importance of not allowing him to immediately use again. Good luck to you both," she said, turning and climbing into the ambulance. She pulled the back door closed and it pulled off shortly after.

"Let's get you home, huh Dean?" Cas asked, staring into his eyes and smiling weakly. Cas felt like he had been brought back from the dead. He was still here. They had another chance.

Dean nodded slowly. "Yeah... sounds good."

Cas helped Dean to his feet and draped his arm over his own shoulder to support him as they slowly made their way back to the Impala. It took a while, but they finally reached the car. Cas helped Dean into the passenger seat, where he immediately slumped against the window and closed his eyes.

Cas started up the car and slowly backed all the way down the trail before heading back to his house, where he shook Dean awake and helped him inside. In the bedroom, Dean undressed himself and climbed under the covers. Cas sat in the desk chair, packing himself a bowl to calm his nerves after the day he'd had.

"Are you gonna come to bed?" Dean mumbled.

"I have to stay up and make sure you're alright first," Cas said. "Depending on how much you took, once the Narcan wears off, you could still be in danger." He lifted his eyes to stare at Dean. "Which is why she wanted you to go to the hospital."

Dean nodded slowly. "Okay," he said softly, turning his head to look straight up and zoning out at the ceiling. They were quiet for a moment as Cas puffed on the bowl. "I know it doesn't mean much, but I really am sorry, Cas," Dean said quietly, his voice cracking.

"I know, Dean," Cas said, exhaling his hit. "But frankly you should be more concerned with what you're doing to yourself than what you're doing to me." He frowned.

Dean's eyes started to well up with tears. "I don't deserve shit, Cas. You deserve everything."

Cas set his bowl down on the desk and stood up, sitting down next to him on the bed and setting his hand on his thigh. "Dude, stop. Seriously." He stared down at Dean, who slowly turned his head to meet his gaze. "Enough with the self-deprecation."

"I shouldn't have snapped at you," he continued. "You were right. It's just that..." He took a deep breath and pushed himself up to lean on his elbows. Did he really want to tell Cas what was going on? Or should he keep it to himself? "...Can I have a cigarette?"

Cas quickly shook one out of his pack and handed it to Dean, along with a lighter. "What, Dean?" Cas asked, his brows furrowed in concern.

He swallowed and looked into Cas' eyes. "Lisa told me she's fucking pregnant."

Cas' eyes widened and he opened his mouth but nothing came out. Once he overcame the initial shock, he started, "Dean-" but stopped as Dean burst into tears.

"I don't know what the fuck to do man," he sobbed, hiding his face in his hands.

"Hey, hey, hey," Cas said softly, wrapping his arms around him. "It'll be okay."

"Come on man, how can you even say that? I'm a fucking junkie with no job and nowhere to live; I can't even take care of myself and Lisa's still in school." He wiped his face and sniffled. "I ruined her fucking life and now I'm bringing a kid into this world just to ruin theirs, too."

"Dean, _you_ didn't ruin her life. It takes two to tango, and... accidents happen." He squeezed Dean in his arms. "You'll figure it out. Besides, I think you would be a great father. You would love and protect your child just like you do for Sam, and that's what matters."

Dean sniffled again and nodded. "I guess." He took a slow pull from his cigarette.

"It's been an hour. Why don't you get some sleep?" Cas suggested. "I'm sure you need it." He would stay up and make sure Dean didn't stop breathing.

"Yeah," Dean said absentmindedly, lying back, feeling a tiredness wash over him that ached all the way into his bones.

Cas leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek. "I'll be here to make sure you're alright, okay?"

Dean nodded. "Thank you."

Cas smiled and got up, sitting back down in his desk chair and packing another bowl as Dean finished his cigarette and drifted off into sleep. After a few minutes had passed, he called Dean's name. When he got no response, he knew he was asleep. He pulled out his phone and texted Sam.

_'I found dean. Hes ok now, but I think you should come over so we can talk'_

_'i have to walk, but ill be there in 20'_

As he waited, he smoked and tried to process everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. His mind was a whirlwind of jumbled thoughts. Would Dean finally realize how serious this was now? What was going to happen with Lisa? And he felt incredibly selfish for even letting it cross his mind, but... what was going to happen with _them_?

His thoughts were interrupted by the doorbell. He hurried downstairs to let Sam in.

"Hey," Sam said, panting a little as he stood on the doorstep. "I got here as soon as I could."

"Thanks," Cas said, letting him in and closing the door behind him. "He's asleep, so keep your voice down, but we have to go back upstairs and keep an eye on him."

Sam raised an eyebrow in confusion as he trailed behind Cas up the stairs. Cas stopped at the doorway and peered in to check that Dean was still asleep. He could hear Dean snoring softly. Turning to Sam, he said, "I can't tip-toe around this. I know he's been hiding it from you- he hid it from me, too. But he's been shooting heroin, Sam. He overdosed and I had to call 911. They came and gave him a shot of Narcan... He made it, but this is bad. ...Really bad."

Sam was quiet, shocked but not surprised. He knew something had been going on with Dean- more than usual, anyway. He shook his head slowly and said, "What do we do?"

Sometimes Cas forgot he was only fifteen. He thought for a moment, before responding, "Well ideally, he needs to go to rehab. Most addicts have underlying issues causing them to use, so it's not as simple as just keeping him away from it. And you know he will get fucked up on anything he can get his hands on. But..."

"...he won't go," Sam finished his sentence. "I know. Dean's not exactly big on accepting help." He frowned, looking over at his brother sleeping in the bed.

They were quiet for a moment before Cas spoke up. "I will handle him, but I just wanted you to know." He paused. "And if you ever need anything, but you feel like you would be stressing him out, text me, okay?"

Sam nodded. "Thank you so much, Cas. I don't know where he- or I- would be without you. I really don't." He reached a hand up to wipe his eye.

Cas nodded and gave him a hug. "Now go home and do your homework," he joked, trying to cheer Sam up.

Sam smiled and laughed. "I will. Please keep me updated on how he's doing, okay? I'll see you later." He turned and walked off down the hallway.

"Have a good night, Sam," Cas called after him as Sam disappeared down the stairs. As he heard the front door close, he made his way over towards the bed. It was only about six o'clock, but he was absolutely exhausted. While he needed to stay awake a little longer to keep an eye on Dean, he could at least lay down in the bed. Removing his trench coat and stripping down to his boxers, he climbed into bed next to Dean and laid on his side, his back to him.

He felt Dean stir and roll over, slinking his arm around Cas and pulling him close, sighing contently into his neck. While this normally would have made Cas happy, this time it wasn't the same. It only made him feel worse. He had been so happy, and Dean had seemed to be, too. Yet, before they could even enjoy it, it was over. Just like that. Dean was probably going to go back to Lisa and Cas would have to act like nothing had ever happened, go back to being just the best friend, the one who was always there to pick up the pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs Used:  
> [The Rolling Stones - Paint It Black (1966)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O4irXQhgMqg)


	12. Chapter 12

The morning sun peeked through the curtains, illuminating a sliver of the bed, where Dean and Cas were fast asleep, their bodies contorted into random and seemingly uncomfortable positions.

Suddenly a loud honk broke the silence and Cas jumped, lifting his head off the pillow, eyes wide. His hair stood up in every which way, the result of a restless night of tossing and turning. He clambered out of bed and ran to the window, leaning on the windowsill and peering down into the road in his boxers. It was the bus. "Shit," he muttered. He needed a shower before he went anywhere. _Fuck it_ , he thought. He opened the window and stuck his arm out, waving the bus on. "Fuck out of here," he mumbled to himself. "Not today."

The bus drove off and he turned around to look at Dean. As he stood in front of the window, the sun shone from behind him and onto Dean, illuminating thousands of tiny dust particles between them. To Cas it felt almost surreal. Slowly everything that had happened yesterday came back to him and his heart began to sink.

For now, though, he wanted to enjoy this moment, so he climbed back into bed next to Dean, cuddling up next to him. Dean stirred, then slowly stretched and yawned. "'Mornin," he said groggily, looking over at Cas.

Cas tried to hide the huge smile that was attempting to burst across his face, but he mostly failed, leaving himself half-smirking. Dean smiled back at him. "What?"

He looked down for a second, then back up at Dean. "I'm just glad that you are still here with me for another day."

"Yeah. Me too," he agreed. He then leaned over and kissed him deeply. Cas closed his eyes and kissed him back, but then Dean pulled back, his eyebrows furrowed in thought.

"What?" Cas asked.

Dean looked into his eyes. "I just want you to know that just because Lisa and I are... y'know, having a kid..." he paused. "It doesn't mean I want to be with her again."

Cas was surprised at how quickly after waking up Dean had wanted to make that known to him, but it also made him very happy. "Are... are you sure?" he asked uncertainly.

"Yeah. We were always fighting- you know that. I think it would be better for the kid if we were both happy... even if it means we're apart. Shitty environment and all that..." He frowned.

Cas nodded. "I agree."

Dean cupped Cas' cheek with his left hand. "I... I want to be with you, Cas." He felt the blood rushing to his face as he began to blush.

"I would like that very much, Dean," Cas replied.

Dean looked around the room. "What time is it? Don't you have school?"

"I missed the bus."

"Do you want me to drive you in?"

Cas shook his head.

Dean grinned. "Would you like to go out for breakfast? My treat. I still have some money I swiped from my dad."

"It's a date," Cas laughed. "But I think we should definitely shower first. We stink." He scrunched up his nose.

"Hey, I almost died last night!" Dean shot back. "What's your excuse?"

He laughed as Cas shoved him playfully. They rose out of the bed and made their way to the shower.

Cas stood in front of Dean, closer to the water, since he was shorter. As they washed Dean couldn't help but stare at his perfect shoulders, his taught lower back, and that ass. God, it was perfect. He reached forward and wrapped his arms around Cas' waist, leaning forward and nuzzling his neck.

Cas hummed contently and craned his head back. Dean lifted his head up a bit and they met for a kiss. Cas could feel Dean's cock start to stiffen against his back end. Dean pushed his tongue into Cas' mouth as he slid his hands down Cas' stomach to his dick, which was swelling quickly. Dean broke their kiss and took a hold of it, tugging slowly, eliciting low moans from Cas. He then increased his speed, twisting his wrist each time he came up. "D- Dean..." Cas uttered.

"Hmm?" Dean crooned in his ear as the water ran down their faces, their shoulders, their dicks.

"I want you to fuck me. _Please_ ," he said.

Dean couldn't argue with that. He let go of his dick and reached back to grab Cas' ass cheeks and spread them apart, pressing one finger to his entrance. He slowly pushed it in, then played with him for a few minutes before positioning himself behind him. He slowly pushed the tip up against Cas, who put his arms out onto the tile to brace himself. As he felt Cas shudder beneath him, he pushed himself the rest of the way in.

Cas gasped and Dean slowly began thrusting, holding tightly onto Cas' hips.

"Oh, shit," Cas breathed. "Yes."

Soon Dean picked up the pace, fingers digging into Cas' sides, water raining down on them.

"Fuuuuuck," Cas let out. "Holy shit, Dean!"

Hearing Cas praise his skills and say his name as he was buried balls deep in his tight little ass sent him spilling over the edge with a loud grunt. He slowly pulled out and Cas straightened up, letting go of the wall.

"Jesus Christ, you are _way_ too good at that," Cas panted.

"Thanks," Dean chuckled, and they finished cleaning up and dried off.

* * *

As they sat across from each other in the diner waiting for their breakfast, Dean leaned forward . "Cas... how do you deal with people staring? Don't you wonder if they know? _How_ they know?" His eyes darted around the diner.

"Dean, if I spent every moment being paranoid about who was judging me, I would go crazy."

Dean let out a small huff. "Yeah, tell me about it." He was definitely already there.

"You can't worry about it, Dean. People will always talk no matter what you do," Cas stated.

The waitress arrived with their food and conversation fell by the wayside as they dug in.

"So... what are you going to tell Lisa?" Cas eventually asked quietly.

Dean shrugged. "Does she really _need_ to know?" he asked through a mouthful of pancakes.

Cas thought for a moment. He wasn't sure why Dean was so adamant about no one knowing. "I guess not."

"I mean-" He swallowed the food in his mouth. "-I'm not going to _hide_ it from her, but I'm not going to flat out say 'Sorry, I'm with Cas now', y'know?"

Cas nodded. "That's not really what I meant, though."

"Oh." He thought for a minute. "I don't know, man. I really want to be in my kid's life, but I really think I would just fuck it up. I need to get my shit together before I can even think about that." He paused. "She said she didn't expect anything of me."

Cas squinted. "That's not right. You both have a responsibility."

"I know," Dean mumbled, looking down at his plate. "Honestly, I don't think she's gonna want me around the kid."

Cas frowned. "I guess just take it one day at a time."

"Yeah." They fell back into silence as they resumed eating.

The waitress soon came back to collect their plates. "Anything else for you boys?" she asked cheerfully.

Cas shook his head. "Just the check, please," Dean said. She nodded and walked off. "So, what's up with you skipping out on school today?" Dean asked. "That's not like you. I used to have to beg you for hours to skip out with me."

Cas shrugged. "It sucks without you there. Plus I missed the bus, and... I would really much rather spend the day with you," he added sheepishly.

Dean smirked. "You flatter me."

The waitress returned with their check. Dean reached into his back pocket for his wallet but Cas stopped him. "I got it."

"Wha-? No, dude, I told you this was on me."

"I know you don't have any money, Dean. Just let me pay, it's okay," Cas insisted, reaching into his coat for his wallet.

Dean stared at him hard for a moment before shrugging. "Fine. Have it your way. Can't even let me do something nice for ya. Jerk." He shot Cas a grin.

Cas stuck his tongue out. "Assbutt." He would never forget the first time he'd said that, when their friendship was still new and he was new to English swear words. Dean had been tickling him, and he'd been begging him to stop between gasps of air. _"Stop... you... ass... butt!"_ It had worked, but only because Dean had begun laughing so hard, he couldn't tickle him anymore. _"Did you just say assbutt? It's ass_ hole _, you idiot!"_

He tossed some money down on the table and stood up. "Alright, let's go."

Dean rose to his feet and followed Cas. As his trench coat flowed behind him, licking at his calves, Dean couldn't help but feel like he was this powerful presence, this confident being, leading the way and walking with his head held high, not giving a fuck what anybody thought. While this may not have been entirely true, as he was sure Cas had his own issues and insecurities, Cas sure made it look like it was. Dean felt small and insignificant as he trailed through the diner behind him.

Dean turned the key in the ignition and the Impala roared to life. The radio kicked on and "Knockin' on Heaven's Door" began playing. Dean reached out and turned it up. "Great song," he said.

Cas nodded. "What would you like to do today, Dean?"

He shrugged. "Don't care. Just wanna spend it with you."

Cas tilted his head. "Awww."

Dean turned red. "Shut up," he muttered.

"Why don't we get stoned as hell and walk around the mall?" Cas suggested.

"Sounds good to me. Guess I should probably look for a job, too," he muttered.

"That would be wise," Cas said as they drove off.

* * *

"Hey, check this out," Dean said, turning away from the shelf with an object in his hand. "It's a mini '67 Impala." It was about the size of a pack of cigarettes. "Looks pretty damn spot-on, too," he observed, turning it over in his hands. "I should put it on the dash and it will be an Impala in an Impala. Imception." He turned to look at Cas with a silly grin, amused at his lame joke.

Cas shook his head, laughing. Dean walked up to the counter to pay for the replica. As he fumbled through his wallet for the money Cas had insisted he kept at the diner, Cas came up and joined him, standing off to his side. Dean handed the cashier the money and she looked at them, a confused look on her face. "You guys look familiar. Like I've just seen you." She counted out the money and opened the register, beginning to count out Dean's change. "You guys are together, right?"

Dean felt his stomach knot up. "Sorry, what?" he asked.

"I feel like I've seen you guys before. Like, wearing those exact same clothes and everything. You're a couple, right?"

"We're best friends," Dean said flatly. Cas shifted uncomfortably next to him, looking down. "You've probably seen us before and got the wrong impression," Dean continued.

She shook her head. "No, I don't make assumptions like that." She thought for a moment as Dean tried to quickly shoved his change back in his wallet. Then she gasped. "I know! Last night, I was driving home from work and I saw you on the side of the road! Surrounded by paramedics! Are you okay?"

Dean's face fell. "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine, thanks," he mumbled, giving up and just throwing the money and the wallet into the bag she had put his purchase into, desperate to escape the conversation.

"I knew there was a reason I thought you guys were a couple. Best friends don't kiss each other like that." She smirked. "Well, maybe sometimes, if there's a lot of alcohol involved." She giggled.

Dean felt his face growing hot and embarrassment rising in his stomach and up into his throat. "Okay then, have a good one," he muttered, turning from the counter and swiftly making his way for the door. Cas quickly offered the cashier an apologetic look before following Dean out the door.

"Dean," Cas said from behind him.

"What?" he asked, continuing to stare straight ahead as he walked.

Cas was quiet. 'What' was right. He wasn't really sure what to say. Finally he settled on, "I'm sorry."

"For what? I'm the one who kissed you in front of a bunch of people," he muttered.

Cas remained quiet, staring down at his shoes as he trailed behind Dean. Even though they had just arrived at the mall, he followed as Dean made a bee-line for the exit. As they got into the Impala, Cas asked quietly, "Do you regret it?"

"Regret what?" Dean asked.

"Kissing me in front of people," Cas said, looking down into his lap.

Dean sighed. "No, people were going to find out sooner or later." He shrugged. "It's just... I'm still coming to terms with it myself. Not quite ready for the whole world to know."

Cas nodded, even though he didn't one-hundred percent understand. When he had realized he was gay, it hadn't been a big deal. Nothing really changed except the treatment of him by some of his crueler classmates, but he knew that that was their problem, not his. He figured Dean must have a very different view of homosexuality, though, considering the way his father spoke to him regarding the matter.

_"Dean, let's go," his father snapped as he yanked Dean up by the arm out of the sandbox._

_"But why?" a six-year-old Dean pleaded._

_"Because you're getting a bit too friendly with that boy," John muttered. "Let's go, Sam!" he yelled. A two-year old Sam quickly scrambled after them, mostly to follow Dean._

_As John dragged him away, Dean looked back at the sandbox to his new friend, frowning. "What did I do wrong?" he asked, looking back up at his father. He didn't understand._

_"Well first of all, boys do not hold hands with other boys," John answered as they loaded up into the car. "Seat belt." Dean obeyed his father and put on his seat belt. "And second, you're not supposed to play house, let alone be the_ wife _." He climbed into the driver's seat._

_Dean still didn't understand. Someone had to be the wife. "But we were the only two playing, who else was going to be the wife?" he asked quietly._

_"You find a girl," John snapped. "Or you don't play." They backed out of the parking lot._

_"But we were just pretending," he insisted._

_"It doesn't matter!" John yelled, and Dean winced at the anger behind his voice. Sam sat quietly beside him in his car seat. "Boys belong with girls. End of story."_

_Dean stared out the window as they pulled off, his friend waving goodbye from the sandbox._

"...Dean?"

Dean blinked and shook his head before turning from the window and back to Cas. "Huh?"

"You were completely zoned out for a minute there," Cas said from across the car. "Are you okay?"

Dean swallowed. "Yeah," he said dryly. His stomach began to knot up and he felt his body growing hot. Beads of sweat started to form on his forehead. Withdrawal had never hit him so quickly before. He felt his mouth start to water and he flung open the driver's side door, vomiting all over the blacktop.

" _Shit_ \- are you alright?" Cas asked worriedly. Dean nodded, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and settling back in the drivers seat. He left the door open and stared straight ahead.

"Withdrawal?" Cas asked. Dean nodded again. Cas reached into one of his many pockets and pulled out his prescription bottle. Twisting off the cap, he shook one out into his hand. "Maybe only one today, hm?"

Dean nodded and took it from his hand, quickly swallowing it.

"Here, move over and let me drive," Cas said, climbing out of the car and heading around to the driver's side. Dean slid across the bench seat and settled back against the door, shivering. "Can we go back to your house, Cas?" he asked.

"Yes we can," Cas said, as he put the car in reverse and pulled out of the parking lot. "Home, here we come." He turned the radio up, which was playing Boston's "More Than a Feeling".

Dean closed his eyes, smiling at Cas calling it _home_. He liked the way it sounded. Not Cas' house, but _home_. Maybe he _could_ find a way to stay there with him, depending on how his parents felt about it. This thought was suddenly clouded by another flashback of his father's words. _You find a girl, or you don't play. ... End of story._

He groaned and shifted in his seat. He just wanted the pain, physical and mental, to subside. Suddenly, as if Cas could read his mind, he reached his hand over and placed it on Dean's, without taking his eyes off the road. This made Dean's heart warm in his chest and, for the time being, the pain to disappear.


	13. Chapter 13

As Cas pulled into the driveway and the car rolled to a stop, Dean inhaled sharply and started to slowly sit up.

"Fall asleep?" Cas asked, turning off the car and smiling over at him.

"Almost," Dean mumbled. He opened the door and climbed out as Cas did the same.

Cas flicked on the TV as Dean sat down on the couch. Cas disappeared into the kitchen and returned with two glasses of water, setting them down on the coffee table. He removed his trench coat and tossed it over the back of the couch, plopping down next to Dean. Dean lifted his arm and wrapped it around Cas' shoulder, pulling him towards him slightly.

Dean's phone dinged and he reached into his front jacket pocket to see who it was. He frowned. "It's Lisa."

Cas turned to him, raising his eyebrows. "What did she say?"

"She said she has a doctors appointment tomorrow at ten." He paused. "And she wants to know if I want to come."

"You're going to go, right?" Cas asked.

"Of course," he said as he texted Lisa back. _'yeah. do you want me to pick you up?'_ His phone quickly dinged again. "So I guess I'm picking her up tomorrow and taking her," he said quietly.

Cas nodded.

"I'm nervous, Cas."

"I know," Cas said. "But everything will work out, I promise."

"I hope so," Dean sighed.

* * *

It was midnight. Cas had fallen asleep but Dean laid awake, his thoughts racing. He couldn't stop thinking about what was going to happen the next day. At this point it had been over twenty-four hours since he had actually used, and although he wasn't experiencing physical withdrawal symptoms due to Cas' help, the nagging urge to use was thrashing around in his brain like a rabid animal desperate to escape.

He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, lighting a cigarette. He leaned on his knees and held his heads in his hands. _Don't do it_ , he thought. _It's been a day. Don't blow it now._ He stood up and began pacing back and forth, taking long drags off his cigarette. _Who are you kidding?_ a voice in his head hissed. _You can't resist. You're weak. Pathetic._ His mind went to the remainder of the bag he had bought yesterday. It was still shoved into the bottom of his duffel bag. He pulled his fist up to his mouth, biting into his thumbnail nervously. His brain sent the best fleeting memory it could muster of the feeling to his frontal lobe, causing his stomach to flip-flop. He scratched the inside of his elbow and shot a glance at the bed, where Cas was fast asleep, his face buried in the pillows.

He dove over to his bag and pulled his clothes out, tossing them to the floor around him. _I told you..._ Trying to ignore the voice, he finally located the baggie at the bottom of his bag, along with the box of needles. He grabbed one, threw the box and his clothes back into his bag and stood up, peering over at Cas. Still asleep. He darted out of the bedroom and towards the bathroom.

After mixing the powder and water, he fiddled in anticipation as he waited for it to dissolve. He swirled it around, willing it to dissolve faster. Once he was satisfied, he stuck the needle into the cup and pulled the plunger back, staring intently at the golden liquid as the barrel of the syringe slowly filled. _You stupid fuck_ , the voice said. _You nearly killed yourself yesterday and yet here you are again._ He bit his lip. _Cas will only help you for so long. You really gonna blow your chance?_ Fuck, make it stop. _He's too fucking good for you_ , the voice spat. He pressed hard into the crook of his right elbow, locating a vein. He shakily brought up the needle and pushed it in, wincing slightly as the tip pierced the skin. Pulling the plunger up slightly, he was relieved to find he had found the vein the first time when blood immediately crept up into the bottom of the barrel. _You dumb shit. Hope it's worth it._ He pushed the plunger down, his heart beating in his throat as the plunger tip slowly passed each millimeter mark before stopping at the bottom. He withdrew the needle and leaned back against the door, sliding down to the floor. Letting his head fall back against the door and dropping the needle onto the tile, he groaned as a wave of tingling and warmth hit him like a train.

He slowly opened his eyes, squinting into the bright bathroom light. He groaned and rolled over, pushing himself up off the floor. He steadied himself on the counter with his left hand and rubbed his face with his right. He reached down and grabbed the needle off the floor and snatched his baggie of the counter. As he turned to leave, he caught his reflection in the mirror. He barely even recognized the person who stared back at him. His once bright green eyes were dull and glossy, underlined with dark circles. His jawline was littered with stubble and he was in desperate need of a haircut. _You gotta admit, you still don't look at bad as you feel_ , the voice laughed and Dean could have swore it was his reflection talking to him. He narrowed his eyes back at it. "Fuck you," he muttered. _Cas already took care of that_ , his reflection sneered. Dean took a step back. His reflection _was_ talking! _Don't even get me started on that_ , the reflection said. _Dad always knew you were a nancy little_ faggot _._

"Dad is an abusive, alcoholic piece of shit," Dean growled into the mirror. "So fuck what he thinks!"

 _Keep telling yourself that_ , his reflection scoffed. _You and I both know damn well that all you want in this world is for him to actually give a shit about you._ The reflection paused as a wide grin spread across it's face. _But that'll_ never _happen. Besides, just look at yourself. You're well on your way to turning out just... like... him."_

Dean couldn't speak, only stare into his reflection with hate in his eyes, tears rolling down his cheeks.

 _And you might want to stop pouring your shriveled little heart out to that poor sap_ , he added, staring back at Dean with disgust. _Because if you thought his opinion of you couldn't possibly sink any lower... you were wrong._

Before his brain could even register what he was doing, Dean pulled his arm back and reeled his fist through the mirror. As glass shattered onto the counter top and floor, a dull ache shot through his hand and up into his arm. He was thankful he was high or that would've hurt like a bitch. He pulled his hand back and held his wrist as blood dripped down his right arm and left hand, splattering onto the white counter top. He lurched forward, leaning on the counter on his elbows. He reached out a shaky left hand and turned on the faucet, covering the handles in blood. He tenderly picked at pieces of glass, wincing as he pulled them out, rinsing his hand as he did so to be sure to irrigate it as much as possible. It felt like forever but finally he was satisfied and grabbed a roll of paper towels off the counter, tearing a few off and wrapping them around his hand. He slowly opened the broken cabinet and more glass fell onto the counter, shattering into smaller pieces. He scanned the items in the cabinet and found a roll of gauze. He grabbed it, dropped the paper towels, and gingerly wrapped his hand.

Stumbling down the hallway, Dean took a deep breath and turned the corner into Cas' room. He was relieved to find Cas was still asleep. He shoved the needle and empty bag into the bottom of his duffel bag and zipped it up as best as he could with his left hand. He turned and crawled towards the bed, feeling like he would fall over if he stood up, and he couldn't wake Cas. He couldn't let him see him like this.

He shot a glance at the clock. It was nearly two am. He'd been in the bathroom for almost two hours. He crawled underneath the covers and closed his eyes, sighing. As he laid flat on his back on the soft mattress, the room dark and his eyes closed, he suddenly felt a second small flutter of the flying feeling he loved so much return momentarily before slowly waning again. Cas stirred and rolled over to face Dean, wrapping his arm around his chest. His touch sent little tingles of electricity across Dean's skin and he felt a small shudder pass through him. He lifted his left hand and placed it on Cas', closing his eyes and drifting off into a drug-induced slumber.

"Dean."

He awoke to Cas shaking him gently. He slowly opened his eyes, squinting in the morning sun. "Hmm?"

"What happened to your hand?" Cas asked from next to him, his voice dripping with concern.

Dean groaned. "Long story... Give me a sec." He slowly sat up and reached onto the desk for his cigarettes, lighting one and holding the pack out to Cas.

As Cas lit his, Dean exhaled his first drag. "I couldn't sleep last night. I kept having these... horrible thoughts," he said quietly. "They wouldn't leave me alone. And..."

 _If you thought his opinion of you couldn't possibly sink any lower... you were wrong,_ the voice repeated. He looked up into Cas' eyes, which were staring into his with warmth and understanding. Not what Dean was expecting. He nearly melted looking into those amazingly blue eyes. He swallowed and continued. "I- I guess I was hallucinating." He looked down. "I was arguing with my reflection. It said some pretty shitty things... and I lost it. I punched the mirror." He lifted his hand a little and looked up at Cas, and the look of sadness that he saw in Cas' face made him want to cry for hurting this amazing man with his bullshit. He looked down again and scratched the inside of his elbow absentmindedly. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I broke your mirror," he mumbled.

"I don't give a fuck about the mirror," Cas said, his eyes darting to the track marks Dean was scratching, then back to Dean. "I care about you."

Dean leaned forward and rested his head on Cas' chest. Cas reciprocated by wrapping his arms around Dean's shoulders, hugging him tightly.

"What time is it?" he mumbled into Cas' chest, not wanting to talk about it anymore.

"Six-thirty," Cas replied. "I have to get ready for school." He paused. "Unless you need me to stay with you."

Dean lifted his head. "No, I'll be okay. You already missed school yesterday." He leaned back and Cas let his arms fall away. "Can't have you dropping out like me. You're the smart one." He smiled weakly.

Cas chuckled. "Don't forget," he said seriously, as he stood up to get dressed, "you have to pick up Lisa today."

"I know," Dean said, lying back on the bed.

"Try not to worry about it too much, Dean," Cas said as he stood in front of the mirror, buttoning up his white shirt and tying his tie.

"I know I've never said anything," Dean said, desperate to change the subject, "but you have got the weirdest fashion sense," he teased, sitting up on his elbows. "Why do you wear such nice stuff everywhere? You're majorly overdressed."

Cas shrugged, but didn't turn from the mirror as he finished adjusting his tie. "I think I look pretty dapper, if I do say so myself."

"Can't argue with that," Dean admitted.

Cas turned and smiled, dropping his hands from his tie and leaving it askew. "Come downstairs with me and have some breakfast."

Dean nodded and stood up, following Cas downstairs. He sat at the table as Cas cooked up omelettes on the stove. He licked his lips hungrily when Cas sat his plate down in front of him, before sitting down with his own across the table. "Mmm." He savored his first bite. "Cas, you are such a good cook."

"It's just an omelette, Dean," Cas laughed.

"Well you must just 'make it with love' or something then, because all your food is the best I've ever had," he said quickly, bringing another forkful to his mouth.

Cas blushed and looked down at his plate, cutting a piece of his omelette with his fork. "Thank you."

Dean shrugged. "It's the truth."

They finished up and went into the living room to sit on the couch until the bus was due. Cas flicked on the TV and turned to the news.

"For today's temperature we seem to be getting off easy, with a high of eighty-five degrees," the weatherman said, gesturing to a map on the green screen behind him. "As for the low, we're looking at..."

They sat in silence for a few minutes as the weatherman blathered on, before Cas checked his watch. "Shit, I've gotta go wait outside. Want to come out and have a cigarette with me?"

Dean nodded and followed Cas out onto the front steps, sitting down and lighting up a cigarette. He took a long drag, closing his eyes and exhaling slowly.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Cas said, sitting down next to him. Holding his cigarette in his mouth, he lifted open his trench coat with his left hand and reached into the inside pocket with his right, pulling out a pill bottle. He handed it to Dean. "Try only to use it for withdrawal symptoms, okay Dean?" he suggested, looking him in the eye. "There's only one in there. If you don't mind, I need to pick up my refill after school."

"It's the least I could do, considering you're giving me your pain medication." Dean frowned. "How have you been holding up?"

Cas shrugged. "Alright. Nothing I'm not used to. I had to fight very hard to get that medication. I spent a long time without it."

"Thank you for sharing with me," Dean said, his voice low. "How about a back rub when you get home?"

Cas smiled. "That sounds great." The bus pulled up and he frowned, looking at Dean. "Guess I'd better go."

Dean stared at him for a moment, and Cas hesitated, hoping he would kiss him goodbye. It would make the teasing he would inevitably endure so worth it. Dean wanted to kiss him so badly, but he just couldn't. He felt like the eyes of every student on the bus were boring into him, their insides squirming with disgust. He swallowed and looked down at his cigarette, flicking the ash off the end. "Have a good day," he mumbled.

Cas tried to hide his disappointment. "You too, Dean." He stood up. "I hope the appointment goes well." With that he briskly walked down the driveway and climbed onto the bus.

Dean stared at the ground and took a drag off his cigarette. Why couldn't he do it? He knew he had hurt Cas' feelings, and it made him feel terrible. _It's because you're a coward._ There was that voice again. Dean angrily flicked his cigarette and went back into the house, locking the door behind him. Maybe a shower would help distract him from his thoughts, and he needed to get ready to pick up Lisa anyway.


	14. Chapter 14

Dean sat in the driveway of Lisa's parents house, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel nervously. Finally the front door opened and Lisa stood in the doorway, giving her mom a quick hug goodbye. As she descended the steps and made her way towards the car, her mom shot Dean a dirty look before closing the front door.

"Hey," she said, opening the door and getting in. "How's it going?"

"Alright," he replied, trying to forget the death glare her mom had given him. "I should be asking you that, though."

"I'm doing okay considering." She smiled.

Dean pulled out of the driveway and headed towards the doctors office. They were silent for a while before Lisa spoke up. "So, I just wanted to let you know, that I have decided to keep the baby," she said quietly, looking down into her lap.

Dean swallowed. "Okay."

"Left here," Lisa said, pointing to a large office building. Dean turned into the parking lot and they exited the vehicle.

"Can I just have a cigarette before we go in?" Dean asked, still standing next to the car.

Lisa stopped walking and turned back to him. "Sure." She paused. "Nervous?"

Dean nodded, lighting his cigarette and taking a long drag. "Very."

"Dean, relax. It will be okay. Do you think any of our parents were ready when they had us?"

Dean didn't reply. He didn't want to think about the circumstances that led to his mother having two children with an abusive alcoholic. He quickly puffed on the cigarette, then flicked it onto the blacktop, exhaling a large cloud of smoke. "Let's go," he said, starting towards the building.

Inside, Dean fiddled with his thumbs as they sat in the waiting room. Pregnancy and parenting magazines littered the tables and he felt himself starting to sweat. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"You okay?" Lisa asked.

"I'm fine," he muttered. "You're the one who's pregnant. Are _you_ okay?"

She shrugged. "I guess."

A short woman with brown hair wearing Hello Kitty print scrubs emerged from the back. "Lisa?" she called, looking up from her clipboard.

They stood up and followed the woman into the back, where she confirmed Lisa's full name and date of birth. Dean sat quietly in the chair in the corner, staring at the floor. The nurse weighed her, marked down her height, and had her lie back on the table. "The doctor and technician will be with you shortly," she said cheerfully as she exited the room, closing the door behind her.

Dean looked up. "Technician?" he repeated, confused.

Lisa turned her head to look at him. "Yeah, this is an ultrasound."

He hesitated. "Like... we get to see it?"

She nodded. He returned his gaze to the floor and they sat in awkward silence as they waited. Soon the doctor knocked and a man and a woman entered. "Good morning, how are you two today?" the man asked.

"Good, thank you," Lisa answered politely.

"Alright, so..." The doctor began explaining the procedure to Lisa as Dean tuned out, unable to focus as his hands became clammy and beads of sweat formed on his face and the back of his neck.

He stood up quickly. He had to nip this in the bud before it got any worse. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but d- do you have a bathroom?"

The doctor nodded. "Down the hall."

Dean quickly exited and was relieved to find a sign in the hallway pointing in the direction of the bathroom. He entered and leaned over the sink, splashing cold water on his face. He then pulled out the bottle Cas had given him and took the lone pill, cupping some water from the faucet in his hand to wash it down. He dried his face off and backed up to the wall, leaning back on it and closing his eyes for a minute. He needed the pill to kick in. He couldn't go back in there in a cold sweat, sixty seconds from vomiting on the floor.

A few minutes passed as he continually wiped his face and neck with the cool paper towel. Tossing it in the garbage can, he took a deep breath and headed back to the exam room.

Lisa was lying back on the table, her shirt lifted up and gel spread across her lower stomach. As Dean entered, she smiled at him. He walked over to stand next to her, and she looked up and said, "I wanted to wait for you."

He opened his mouth but she turned from him to look at the screen. The doctor brought the wand up to her stomach and began moving it back and forth. He spoke to the technician quietly. It seemed that she was new and he was explaining some things to her. Dean felt Lisa grab his hand in hers and squeeze nervously. Their eyes were locked to the screen, although neither were really sure exactly what they were looking for.

A few minutes passed and the doctor's brows started to furrow. He whispered something to the technician and stopped moving the wand. He turned to Lisa. "You said you are eight weeks along?"

Lisa nodded.

"You're absolutely certain?"

"Yes," she replied quickly. "It could be longer, but... that was the last time we had sex," she mumbled. "I had a blood test."

The doctor sighed. "I'm sorry to have to inform you of this, but... I can't find a heartbeat. I believe you've miscarried. I'm sorry."

Lisa dropped Dean's hand as her face fell. "W- what?" she said softly.

Dean felt the sweat begin to drip down his forehead and his neck again, and his throat felt tight and dry. He gently took Lisa's hand back in his and gave it a light squeeze.

The technician began gently wiping the excess gel off her stomach. "You've had a miscarriage. It's not uncommon this early into a pregnancy. In fact, fifteen to twenty percent of pregnancies miscarry before twenty weeks." She paused and looked up at Lisa. "I'm sorry."

Lisa just stared ahead in shock, lips parted slightly.

"We will be right back, and the doctor is going to discuss some options with you, okay?" They left and Dean and Lisa were alone.

Dean wasn't exactly sure what to say. Hell, he wasn't even sure what to _feel_. He felt numb. So he just leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her in for a hug. She turned and buried her face into his chest, beginning to sob. Dean moved his hand up and down her arm in what he hoped was a soothing gesture. "I'm sorry, Lisa," he whispered into her ear.

She sniffled as there was a knock on the door. She lifted her head and wiped her face with her hands as the doctor entered the room.

"I'm very sorry for your loss," he said somberly. He looked at Dean, giving him a curt nod to acknowledge him as well, before continuing. "It's possible, but unlikely, that we just couldn't find the heartbeat. But if you're sure you're at least eight weeks, I'm not hopeful. I'd like to write you a medication that will facilitate the miscarriage by causing contractions and expulsion of the fetus, to reduce your risk of infection. But I don't want you to take it until you begin having symptoms, which should be within the next day. Does that sound okay?" She nodded. He listed a few things that she should look out for that would most likely mean she was miscarrying. "Do you have any questions for me?"

She shook her head. "No," she whispered.

"Please, don't hesitate to call me if you do. Or if you need anything else. Perhaps a referral for counseling." He pursed his lips.

"Thank you doctor," she said quietly. He exited the room and Lisa stood up slowly. Dean followed her out into the lobby, where they had her make a follow-up appointment for another week to see how she was doing and run some tests.

As they left the building, Lisa stared numbly at her prescription. Dean opened the car door for her before getting into the vehicle himself. They sat in silence for a few minutes, "Sweet Child O Mine" playing softly through the radio, before Dean finally spoke. "For what it's worth... I think you would've been an amazing mom. And you'll have that chance again someday, when the time is right." He paused. "And the man."

"Thank you for being here with me, Dean," was all she said in reply, still staring down at her lap.

"Of course." More silence. "Do you want me to stay with you for a little while?"

She didn't answer right away. "No, I'm alright. I think I'd just like to be alone," she said quietly.

"Okay. Just... don't hesitate to call me if you need anything. Okay?" He leaned in and looked up at her. She looked over at him and nodded. "Do you want me to take you home now?" She nodded again.

He started up the engine and they pulled away.

* * *

Cas stared at the blackboard. While he was there physically, his mind was a million miles away. He wondered how long it would be before Dean was no longer embarrassed of him. He couldn't help but feel hurt and angry. He tried telling himself it wasn't Dean's fault, his father literally beat it into him, but it still didn't make him feel any better; in fact, it made him feel worse. He should just be happy that Dean felt the same way he did at all, whether he was willing to show it in front of others or not.

He sighed, shifting uncomfortably in his seat and dropping his head down to rest on the desk. The school desks were murder on his back.

"Whassa matter Novak, trouble in paradise?" the same kid from the day before yesterday snickered from the next desk over. His friend in the desk in front of him chuckled.

Cas didn't move. He was too angry to even respond. He knew that if he fed into it, it would not end well for any of them.

* * *

As Dean drove away from Lisa's, he had no idea how to feel. While part of him felt relief (and, as a result, guilt), another part of him was mourning. It may have only been a tiny little fetus, but it was a part of him. And now it was gone. He was glad for Lisa, though. She had another chance to finish growing up before raising a kid. A kid who served as a reminder of the man who wasted two years of her life only to end up being too much of a fuck-up to get his shit together when shit got serious.

He slammed on the breaks as he nearly passed a liquor store, turning into the parking lot. He pulled out the last of the money he had stolen from John, staring at it in his hands. He would have to make a stop later for more. Shoving it back into his pocket, he hurried inside and swiped a bottle of Jack Daniels off the shelf, bringing it up to the counter. _Please don't ID, please don't ID_ , he pleaded in his head.

The cashier was an older man, probably in his sixties, sitting on a stool and reading a newspaper. He scanned the bottle into the register. "Good choice."

"Yeah," Dean said gruffly, handing over the cash. "Been drinking it for years." And he wasn't just saying that to sound older- it was the truth.

The man put the bottle in a brown paper bag and handed him his change. "Enjoy."

"Thanks," Dean said, grabbing the bagged bottle as the old man went back to his newspaper. He exited the building and climbed into the Impala, starting her up and pulling out towards Cas'.

He went upstairs and grabbed his flask from his bag, cracking the bottle and filling it up. He replaced the cap and tucked it into the inside pocket of his jacket. He then took a long swig of the bottle before replacing the cap and shoving it into his bag. He turned to look at Cas' alarm clock. It was only noon. He pulled out his phone to text Cas. _'want me to pick you up?'_

Cas was eating lunch in the bathroom, of all places. He had tried to go to the library but they bitched at him about bringing food in, and he was starving. Suddenly his phone dinged and his heart jumped when he saw it was Dean, a smile instantly forming on his face. _'Definitely'_ he replied.

_'ill see you at 2:15'_

Cas frowned, texting back, _'Is there any way you can come sooner?'_

_'like when?'_

_'Like now'_

_'yea, everything ok?'_

_'Yeah. Text me when youre here'_ , Cas responded, putting his phone back in his pocket. He stared down at the remainder of his lunch. Suddenly it didn't look very appetizing when he knew he could wait only a little longer and eat non-school food. He emerged from the stall and tossed it into the garbage on his way to stand in front of the mirror. He fixed his hair a little and went out in the hallway to wander aimlessly until he heard from Dean.

His phone went off about ten minutes later. He was glad he lived so close to the school. He walked to the gymnasium and out the door the gym classes used to take them to the track. He walked around the building and spotted the Impala parked out front under a tree. He felt happiness bubbling up in his stomach as he got closer. Once he reached the car, he leaned down and grinned through the passenger window, waving excitedly. Dean waved back and Cas opened the door.

"You're such a dork," Dean laughed.

Cas plopped down into the seat. "I missed you." Dean hesitated and Cas watched his face as he thought for a moment. "Dean?"

Then Dean leaned in and kissed him, and it was long and deep and... Cas should've known. The smell of whiskey infiltrated his nostrils as he realized why Dean was suddenly willing to kiss him in front of the school less than six hours after being unable to do so in front of the bus.

Dean felt him stiffen and he pulled back. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Cas mumbled. He didn't want to say anything and risk Dean never show him affection in public again. "I just had a shitty day."

"Oh," Dean said quietly, starting the car and pulling off in the direction of the pharmacy. Once they arrived, he looked over at Cas and said, "Maybe I should wait here." He didn't want to risk the pharmacist recognizing him for buying needles and refusing to sell Cas his medication.

"That would probably be a good idea," Cas agreed, exiting the car. "I'll be right back." He closed the door and headed into the pharmacy.

Dean could see him through the glass windows. Once he disappeared towards the back of the store, Dean gave a quick look around before pulling his flask out of his pocket and taking a quick drink. He quickly screwed the cap back on and returned the flask to it's pocket, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

Cas soon emerged empty-handed and got back into the car. "What happened?" Dean asked, confused.

Cas patted one of the pockets of his trench coat. "I got 'em. Let's go home."

As he backed out of the parking lot, the corner of Dean's mouth turned up in a small smile at Cas calling it _home_ again.

Cas hung his trench coat up on the back of his closet door and sat down at his desk, popping open the pill bottle and throwing one back. He groaned and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Dean, who was sitting on the bed, sat up and snuffed his cigarette out in the ashtray. "Let me give you your back rub," he said.

"First," Cas said, lighting a cigarette of his own, "tell me what happened today."

Dean frowned. "Well... we aren't having a kid."

Cas raised his eyebrows. "Is she..." he paused. "Terminating the pregnancy?"

Dean shook his head. "She... lost the baby. I guess it's common so early on," he added quickly. "But... she's upset."

"Oh Dean, I'm sorry." Dean shrugged. Cas got up and sat next to him on the bed. "Are you okay? Talk to me."

Dean looked into his sky-blue eyes and sighed. "I don't know. I'm upset, I mean that was my kid, but... I'm also relieved. For both Lisa and I, and the kid that would've been. It's not the right time, we aren't even together anymore... But I feel guilty as fuck for thinking that way."

Cas wrapped his arms around Dean, squeezing him. "Dean, don't feel guilty. You feel relieved because you understand reality- that you two were nowhere near ready, and Lisa and the kid would've suffered for it. And you."

"Yeah, I guess," he agreed halfheartedly. "You're right."

Cas reached his hand up and pet Dean's hair, inhaling his scent. "How have you been doing today otherwise?"

Dean shrugged. "Okay," he mumbled into Cas' chest. "I took the pill you gave me at like ten-thirty." He pulled back and looked up. "Now how about that back rub?"

Cas grinned. "That sounds heavenly."

Dean stood up and turned to face Cas. "Take off your shirt and lie on your stomach," he instructed.

Cas laid back and began unbuttoning his shirt with a grin. "Bossy, bossy."


	15. Chapter 15

Dean chuckled, trying to hide his arousal as Cas pulled his shirt off his shoulders and tossed it onto his desk chair. Cas rolled over and crossed his arms on a pillow in front of him, burying his face into them.

Dean slowly climbed onto the bed and on top of Cas' legs, straddling them. "Okay, so where's most of your pain?" he asked.

Cas tried to reach back and point it out, wincing slightly. "Right between my shoulder blades, from my neck to about half-way down my spine," he said, his voice muffled by the pillow. "Just- please be careful. It's very painful. If you could use the heels of your palms instead of your fingertips..."

Dean nodded and gently pressed his palm between Cas' shoulder blades, slowly moving down each vertebrae, applying pressure and making small circles. He could hear Cas grunting and making noises into the pillow.

"Is this okay?" Dean asked. Cas nodded. Dean continued for a few minutes before slowly moving further down his back. He held Cas' waist in his hands and rubbed either side of his spine with his thumbs. "Is that good?" he confirmed.

"Yeah, great," Cas breathed into the pillow.

Dean slowly began working his way back up. "So... I don't think I've ever asked you this, but what happened to your back?"

"I have no idea," Cas responded, wincing as Dean pressed on a tender spot. "I've had problems for as long as I can remember... They've done x-rays and MRIs." He paused for a moment, groaning as Dean gripped his shoulders and slowly squeezed, kneading the back of his neck with his thumbs. "They said there's what looks like... fractures, all along my spine. It's consistent with injuries from a severe fall." He exhaled slowly as Dean gently worked his way back down to his lower back. "It's not actually fractured, but it shows... _something_ wrong. And the pain is very real."

"And nothing happened?" Dean asked, confused.

"No," he mumbled into the pillow. "I was born this way."

"That sucks. I'm sorry," Dean said.

Cas shrugged lightly. "I've gotten used to it. There's nothing I can do about it."

Dean stopped massaging and leaned forward, holding himself up on his left elbow. "Well, we could make this a regular thing," he crooned in his ear, squeezing his right shoulder.

Cas let out a small laugh and lifted his head to look at Dean. "I would enjoy that very much."

Dean let himself fall onto his side next to Cas, and they stared at each other for a short moment before Dean forced his lips against Cas', closing his eyes and taking his face in his hand. Cas twisted onto his side and kissed him back, pressing his hips up and into Dean's. Dean groaned into his mouth, twisting his fingers into his hair and tugging lightly.

"Fuck, man," Dean mumbled, pulling back and trailing his eyes down Cas' chest to his waist. "You're so..." he stopped, his face growing red.

Cas smiled shyly. "It's okay Dean, I know you can't say it."

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "You deserve someone who can shout from the rooftops how fucking great you are."

"I know how you really feel, and that's what matters." He paused, putting his left hand on Dean's waist, sliding his fingers under his shirt and dragging his fingers along his skin. "This is all I could ever ask for."

Dean shuddered under his touch. He wasn't sure what to say, so he didn't say anything. He closed his eyes and dropped his head into Cas' chest.

Cas lightly brought his fingers across Dean's hip and to the button of his jeans. He gripped the corner of the denim with his thumb, giving a quick tug. The button popped open and Dean felt himself quickly growing hard. Cas gave the waist of his jeans a small tug. Dean pulled his head back, propped himself up, and shimmied his jeans and boxers down, kicking them off the side of the bed.

Cas gently took his dick in his hand, lightly squeezing the shaft and rubbing his thumb over the tip. Dean shuddered and closed his eyes before opening them to find himself looking right into Cas'. "I love your eyes," he said softly. "They're- they're so blue... they're like the sky."

Cas smiled. "And yours are the deepest green. Like earth."

Dean felt his face growing red again.

Cas was quiet for a moment, slowly stroking Dean's dick, as he reveled in Dean staring at him. "Do you want me to suck your dick?" he asked, his lips curling into a sly smile.

Dean's lips parted and he felt a lump form in his throat as those words slipped past Cas' tongue and escaped his perfect lips. He nodded dumbly.

"Lie back and sit up," Cas said as he himself sat up.

Dean did as he was instructed. It kind of turned him on when Cas told him what to do.

"Do you want a cigarette?" Cas asked, climbing off the bed. Dean nodded. Cas lit one and took two quick drags, then held it out to Dean as he climbed back onto the bed. Once Dean took it, he knelt down and gave his shaft a quick lick from the balls to the tip.

Dean shuddered and let his head fall back. " _Fuuuck..._ "

Cas took him in his hand and tugged rhythmically. Dean lifted his head and looked down and Cas met his gaze for a second before licking his lips and lowering his head, pressing his lips to the head and suckling lightly.

Dean reached down and touched the side of Cas' face, who lifted his eyes again to meet Dean's before quickly bobbing down and taking all of him in his mouth. Dean grunted and bucked his hips. "Oh, man..." he groaned.

Cas shifted a little so he was off to the left. Switching to his left hand, he brought down his right and gently played with his balls, then pressed his thumb onto his perineum, rubbing his thumb up and down. Dean twitched violently as an electric current shot up into his stomach. " _Holy shit,_ " he gasped.

Cas looked up and Dean's head was back with his eyes closed. He quickly brought his fingers into his mouth and coated them with a generous amount of saliva before taking Dean in his mouth again. He pressed on his perineum again with his thumb, right above his hole, slowly pushing his index finger against it. Dean jumped and Cas pulled his hand away and lifted his head, Dean's dick emerging from his mouth with a _pop_. "I- I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's alright," Dean breathed. "I just... wasn't expecting that."

"Do you want me to stop?" Cas asked, tilting his head.

Dean hesitated. Realizing his forgotten cigarette was half-ash, he leaned over and snuffed it out in the ashtray. Cas was staring at him with anticipation. "Honestly... no," he said quietly.

Cas smiled and took his dick in his hand again, planting a kiss on the tip. Dean tossed his head back, sighing. Cas quickly spit onto his fingertips again and reached down, pressing them against Dean for a second before inserting one.

He could feel Dean shudder and clench, as he flexed his fingers against the sheets in pleasure. As he relaxed again, Cas inserted a second finger, and Dean frantically grabbed at the sheets, twisting them up into his fists. He tried to stifle a groan as Cas moved his fingers around. He was feeling quite self-conscious about having another man playing with his asshole, but fuck if he couldn't admit it felt amazing.

Cas left Dean's dick and moved up, his fingers still inside him, kissing him on the chest, up his neck, along his jaw, on his mouth. He pulled back slightly and Dean slowly opened his eyes. "Can... can I fuck you?" Cas blurted out softly before he could stop himself. He immediately regretted it, afraid he'd ruined everything by pushing Dean too far.

Dean hesitated, but the look on Cas' face told him it would all be okay. This man wanted him, and Dean wanted him as well. So what if being on the bottom was for the girl? What they did in bed was their own business. He didn't want to blow this chance, and he didn't want to hurt Cas. He nodded slowly. "Yeah. I... Fuck, I'm nervous. But yes." He let out a small, nervous laugh, but the happiness that appeared on Cas' face relaxed him.

Cas removed his fingers and scrambled up, undoing his pants and dropping them to the floor. He was already fully erect. He reached over to the desk, grabbing the lube from the drawer and climbing back onto the bed. Sitting back on his haunches, he squirted a generous amount into the palm of his hand and began to stroke his dick.

Dean propped himself up on his elbows to watch. Holy shit Cas was gorgeous. His hair was slightly messy and his shoulders were hunched as he look down at himself and pumped his cock. His skin was smooth and fair, with just the slightest few hairs trailing down from his navel to his pubic hair, which there wasn't much of, as if he had shaved at some point in the recent past. He looked up at Dean and smiled mischievously as he caught Dean staring. "Enjoying the view?" he asked.

Dean nodded dumbly.

Cas leaned forward and planted a kiss on Dean's neck. Dean craned his head back, revealing all of his throat to Cas, who started nibbling and sucking as he again inserted a lubed up finger inside of Dean. He pulled back after a minute or two, satisfied it would leave a mark, and pushed a second finger in alongside the first. When he felt like Dean was reading, he pulled them back out. Holding his dick in his right hand, he lined himself up and looked into Dean's eyes. "Are you ready?"

Dean swallowed and nodded.

Cas slowly pushed the tip of his dick again Dean's hole. Dean inhaled sharply. "You have to relax, Dean," Cas said softly. Dean nodded and closed his eyes, willing himself to relax. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

Cas leaned back and took Dean in his left hand, slowly tugging to relax Dean and distract him from the initial penetration. Dean sighed as his body loosened and Cas slowly pushed himself in. Dean groaned and Cas released his dick and leaned down again, nuzzling his face in the crook of Dean's neck as he pushed in completely.

"It..." Dean swallowed hard. "It feels weird," he mumbled, staring up at the ceiling.

"I know," Cas said soothingly. "Just give it a second." He stayed completely still, giving Dean time to adjust. Dean slowly lifted his arms and wrapped them around Cas.

After a few minutes, as Dean relaxed beneath him, Cas slowly pulled out a bit, then thrust back in.

A breathy moan escaped Dean before he could stop it. Cas adjusted his hips and thrust again, causing Dean to buck violently and gasp as Cas' cock hit his prostate. "Holy fuck!" he squeaked. He had no idea this could feel so good. Had he really been missing out on _this_ all of these years? And especially missing out on it with _Cas_?

Cas smirked and picked up the speed, breathing heavily into Dean's ear. This turned Dean on like crazy. "Soooo good," he groaned, biting his lip. He slid his hands up Cas' back to his head, where he grabbed onto his hair. Cas felt himself getting close so he slowed down, pulling his head back and looking into Dean's eyes. So badly he wanted to tell Dean he loved him, as they laid here together doing what Cas could only describe as making love. This wasn't like the other times, where it was Dean on top, hot and quick. This was slow, and... sensual. Less mechanical thrusting, more kissing and eye contact. Instead, he settled on leaning in for another kiss. Dean kissed him back, mouth open, tongue darting over Cas'. His hands slid down Cas' shoulders, down his back, and found his ass, giving each cheek a hard squeeze. Cas broke the kiss and sped up just a little. He could feel Dean's hard cock against his stomach. He lifted up slightly and took it in his hand, rubbing his thumb up and down the shaft. He couldn't stop staring into those green eyes as he did so, and Dean's were locked on him as well. Dean's mouth parted slightly and he uttered, "I..."

He didn't finish, but Cas knew what he wanted to say, and it made his heart swell. He felt a fire in his belly and he thrust harder before spilling into Dean with a loud groan. The feeling of warmth inside him combined with watching Cas orgasm as his dick twitched inside him caused Dean himself to finish, coming onto his stomach. He let his head fall back with a sigh as Cas pulled out and collapsed next to him. He placed his hand on Dean's chest and sighed contently.

They laid in silence for a moment before Dean spoke. "Cigarette?"

Cas lifted his head and nodded and Dean reached over to grab the pack off the desk. Cas rolled over and sat up, leaning against the headboard. Dean was slightly propped up on pillows, puffing on his cigarette.

"Did you like it?" Cas asked hesitantly, staring at the cherry on his cigarette. Part of him didn't really want to know if Dean didn't.

"Yeah," Dean replied without hesitation. "Definitely." He leaned over and gave Cas a quick kiss before taking another drag off his cigarette. Cas smiled as he noticed the hickey darkening on Dean's neck.

Dean noticed Cas staring at him. "What?" he asked innocently.

Cas shook his head. "Nothing. I'm very glad you enjoyed that, Dean." He took a puff off his cigarette.

"Me too," Dean agreed sheepishly.

Cas stood up and walked over to the desk. He put the lube back in the bottom drawer, snuffed his cigarette out in the ashtray, and started walking towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Dean asked.

Cas stopped, turning to him. "To clean up. Care to join?"

Dean jumped up and put his cigarette out as well, following Cas to the bathroom. After they had cleaned up, they threw on some pajamas and headed downstairs, settling down on the couch. Cas had grabbed his bong from upstairs and he set it on the coffee table, packing the bowl head. He handed Dean the lighter. "Want greens?"

"Thanks," Dean said, taking the lighter and picking up the bong. He took a large hit and held it in, passing the bong to Cas. As Cas took his own hit, Dean exhaled, a large cloud appearing in front of them. He coughed for a few moments. They packed and passed the bong back and forth a few times.

Finally Cas reached forward and pressed the power button on the remote, turning on the TV.

"Damn, were we really sitting here staring at a blank screen this whole time?" Dean asked.

Cas laughed. "Dude I'm fucking starving. You?" Dean's eyes widened and he nodded. Cas jumped up and hurried into the kitchen. "I'm making some mother fucking mac and cheeeese," he sang from the other room.

Dean smiled to himself as he heard pots and pans clattering and the faucet running as Cas filled the pot with water. He could really get used to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, i totally alluded to Cas being a fallen angel like Anna was. :P please don't forget to let me know what you think! the reviews really make my day, seriously!


	16. Chapter 16

The next day they had woken up on the couch, after a late night of grams of weed, binge-watching Adult Swim, and sitting what would have been way too close to each other to Dean just a few weeks ago. After stumbling to the bathroom, peeing in unison (which for some reason neither or them saw anything weird about), and making breakfast, they got dressed and smoked bowls and cigarettes in the living room. They had woken up late, about nine, and at that point Cas saw no point in going to school. He'd probably skip tomorrow, too. Then it would be the weekend. He was smart, he could keep up. Missing three days (and not even in a row) was nothing.

He had given Dean one pill when they woke up. For the time being, he seemed content. He wasn't drinking. He wasn't using. Only smoking some herb and watching TV. He was smiling. Laughing. This made Cas happy as he laughed along with him. They hadn't gotten this stoned in a long time, as Dean was always fucked up on something else or planning on it, so he didn't smoke this much. And being stoned together was so much different and so much better than Cas just being stoned and Dean being wasted or nodding.

Afternoon rolled around and Cas suggested they ask Sam if he would like to come over and hang out after school. Dean's eyes lit up and he nodded eagerly, pulling out his phone and texting Sam.

_'hows school?'_

Sam replied quickly. _'boring. what are you doing?'_

 _'nothin. come hang with us at cas' after school. ill pick you up'_ he texted back.

Sam agreed and Cas and Dean mosey'd around the house getting ready. Dean showered first. In the mirror, he noticed the little dark red splotch on his neck and felt his stomach flutter, his mind flashing back to the night before as he ran his fingers over it. It kind of turned him on that Cas had left a mark on him, as if saying, _this is mine_. He got dressed, and while Cas was in the shower, decided to clean up the kitchen. It was the least he could do for all of Cas' hospitality... and amazing sex.

As he stood over the sink, scrubbing eggs off a frying pan, he thought about the night before. He was still kind of shocked that he had been fucked by a dude... But he couldn't deny it was better than anything he had ever done with a girl. And that kind of scared him. Was he gay? He still liked girls. ...Was he bi? He rinsed the pan and set it in the dish drain, picking up the pot Cas made the mac and cheese in and meticulously scrubbing along the inside with the sponge. _It doesn't matter what the fuck you call yourself, you took a dick up your ass. But I guess if you really wanna label it, you could call yourself..._ faggot. _Or how about queer? Ohhh, 'fairy' has a nice ring to it._ Dean dropped the pot and sponge into the sink, splashing water onto the counter. _What's the matter? Better get used to it, because that's what everyone'll call ya._ He gripped the edge of the sink and lowered his head, tightly shutting his eyes. He had finally had a good day or so, and this stupid fucking voice had to come back? _And sooner or later Cas is going to realize what a sad, pathetic little bitch you are. And then you'll be alone,_ and _outed._

"Shut the fuck up!" Dean growled, his voice low and wavering.

"Dean?" Cas piped up from behind him.

"Cas?" Dean spun around to face Cas, who was standing in the doorway of the kitchen. He was wearing an old, worn Blink-182 shirt, straight-legged blue jeans, and red high-top Converse. "You... you look different."

He shrugged. "Do you like it? I figured I'd be a bit more casual today. Plus it's supposed to be really hot."

"' _A bit_ '? You kinda went in the complete opposite direction," Dean said, letting out a small laugh. "But yeah, you look good." He started to blush slightly.

"Who were you talking to?" Cas asked, walking towards Dean.

"Ummm..." Dean hesitated. He couldn't see any way out of this one. "Myself," he admitted.

"Why did you tell yourself to shut up?" He did that head tilt thing that Dean found insanely adorable.

He sighed. He was tired of lying to Cas about shit. But he also hated worrying him. "I... It was a voice." He paused and pointed to his skull. "In my head." He scrunched his eyes shut and looked down, embarrassed at how stupid it sounded when he said it aloud.

"Like... your thoughts?" Cas asked hesitantly, internally pleading for that to be the answer, even though he knew it wasn't.

"No," Dean mumbled. "But it's me. But talking to me as if he's someone else." He knew how little that made sense. He sighed heavily and turned, walking across the kitchen. "Nevermind. Just forget about it."

"Dean-" Cas started.

"Cas, please," Dean interrupted, a little more harsh than he meant to. He lowered his voice and continued, "Can we just enjoy today together and talk about it later?"

Cas just nodded, walking towards Dean as Dean turned around to face him. He wrapped his arms around his waist and leaned his head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry I pushed you. I'm just worried about you, Dean."

Dean hugged him back and stared off across the kitchen at the sink, still half-full of dishes and puddles of water pooled around the edges. "I know."

Cas leaned back and released Dean's waist. He turned to look behind him and, turning back to Dean, said, "Thank you for doing the dishes."

Dean frowned. "I didn't exactly get to finish."

"It's okay." Cas smiled. "We'll clean when we get home tonight. Sound good?"

Dean nodded.

"Alright, so let's go get Sam," he said, still smiling.

Dean smiled back. "Okay."

* * *

Sam stood outside of Lawrence High, squinting into the sun, shielding his eyes with his hand. The sound of the Impala rumbled through the air and he began walking towards the road as it pulled up.

Cas' window was open and Sam leaned down to peer into it as he neared the car. Dean leaned over into Cas' lap. "Hey, Sammy!" he yelled out the window, a goofy grin plastered on his face. It had felt like an eternity since he had seen his little brother.

Sam smiled and reached out for the door handle. He tossed his backpack in first, then clambered in behind. "Whats going on, guys?"

"How was school?" Dean asked, glancing at him in the rear view mirror.

Sam shrugged. "Long. I can't wait to smoke."

"That makes two of us," Dean chuckled, reaching down and cranking the radio up. AC/DC's "Back in Black" blasted as Dean slammed on the gas, peeling off down the street.

"So what have you guys been up to? Where have you been staying, Dean?" Sam inquired, leaning forward and sticking his head between Dean and Cas, one elbow on each of their seats.

Dean was surprised he was even asking. Did he think he would be staying with Lisa? "Uh, with Cas, actually," Dean said. It shouldn't sound suspicious; they were best friends and Dean had spent many a night there before. There was no reason for Sam to think anything of it, but Dean still couldn't help himself from feeling like Sam would know something was different.

He didn't, though. "That's cool." He leaned back in his seat again and fastened his seat belt. "You look good, Dean."

Dean was surprised that one day of not using combined with food, rest, sex, and showers had had such a noticeable effect. "Uh, thanks, Sammy."

They pulled up to Cas' and headed inside.

"Food, guys?" Cas asked from the kitchen.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever you've got is fine," Sam replied. "Thank you." He and Dean were sitting on opposite ends of the couch. Dean turned on the TV, but there was nothing on. Cas returned with sandwiches, chips, soda, and water, setting it all down on the coffee table.

"Damn, Cas, you got the smorgasbord," Dean said.

"Yeah," Cas laughed. "Figured we should be prepared for munchies. There's a lot more in the kitchen, I just couldn't carry anything else." He glanced at the TV, which was on the news. "So what're we watching?"

"Nothing's on," Sam said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a baggie. He began to break it up on the table as Cas looked for a movie.

They settled on a horror movie and Cas plopped himself in between them on the couch. They each lit up a bowl, bong, and joint, respectively, and began passing them around. Before they knew it, about forty-five minutes had gone by, the movie was half-way over, and they were so stoned they couldn't even follow the story.

"What the fuck are we even watching?" Sam asked slowly, followed by a laugh.

"Jeepers Creepers," Cas said flatly, not moving his gaze from the screen an inch. Not that he was actually paying attention, but he just couldn't break his zone-out staring contest with the screen.

Dean leaned his head back, sinking into the couch. "This couch is so comfortable, man. I didn't think couches could be this comfortable." He sighed contently.

"That's because our couch is a beat-up piece of shit from the seventies," Sam laughed.

Dean laughed too. "I actually slept good on this thing last night."

"Me, too," Cas agreed, still not taking his eyes off the screen.

The room was quiet for a minute as Sam processed what was just said. "Wait, you guys both slept on the couch?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dean felt his stomach knot and a lump form in his throat. _Dammit Cas._ "Uhh..." He cleared his throat. "Yeah."

Sam raised the other eyebrow. "And...?"

Cas, sensing the awkwardness, turned to look at Sam.

"What the hell do you mean, _and_?" Dean asked defensively. Cas turned to him now.

Sam looked down at the couch they were on. There was a small amount of space between he and Cas, but only because Cas and Dean's thighs were pressed up against each other. "Well, there isn't exactly a lot of room on this couch," he said slowly.

"Sam, shut up. You're stoned," Dean muttered. Cas' face turned red and he looked down into his lap.

Sam was quiet for a moment, mouth slightly open as he stared off into space. Dean stared at the TV through narrowed eyes. Cas rolled another joint to distract himself from the tension in the air.

Finally Sam spoke. "Do you think I don't know, Dean?" he asked, turning to look at him.

"W-what?" Dean sputtered. Cas fiddled with the joint, eyes widening, but not looking up.

"Oh come on, Dean," Sam sighed in exasperation, flopping his head backwards. "Give me some credit. I could see something between you two for years. I was wondering when the hell you were going to do something about it."

"I don't- I don't understand how you can tell," Dean said quietly, shaking his head.

"Well you're sitting seriously close on the couch, and you're looking at each other... differently." He smirked and raised an eyebrow. Dean covered his face with his hand and groaned. Cas looked up at Sam with a frown. "I know you don't want to talk about it, Dean," Sam continued. "But just know that... I don't care. What I do care about is you being happy. And you seem very happy." He grinned.

Dean nodded, still staring straight ahead. Cas cleared his throat and lit the joint. They puffed and passed for a few minutes, half-watching the end of the movie. They put on another, this time choosing a comedy. This caused the awkwardness to dissipate as they bantered back and forth with commentary. Soon it was getting late and Cas urged Sam to get home and complete his homework.

Sam gave them each a hug, winked at Dean, and left, insisting he would be fine to walk. Dean had wanted to drive him, but it was only a short walk. It may have been eight o'clock but it was still light out. He'd convinced his brother he'd be fine.

As Sam disappeared down the street, Cas closed and locked the front door. Dean retreated back to the couch and Cas followed him. He laid on his back, his head on Dean's lap, his legs propped up on the arm of the couch. He closed his eyes and sighed.

"What's up?" Dean asked.

"Nothing. It was just nice to see your brother. But now it's nice to be alone, too."

Hearing this made Dean happy, but it was bogged down by anxiety about how obvious their... relationship, had been to Sam. Was it that obvious to everyone?


	17. Chapter 17

Cas shifted and rolled over, his face now up against Dean's stomach. Dean reached down and lightly, absentmindedly scratched his scalp. It still felt foreign to him, being this close, but he liked it. And he had to keep reminding himself that Cas liked it, too.

"What should we do now?" Cas mumbled.

Dean shrugged. The thought of using floated in the back of his mind, but that was nothing new. He just had to push it away.

"Can we talk about today... in the kitchen?" Cas asked, rolling back over so he was looking up at Dean.

Dean looked down at him, then back up and away. "Yeah." Cas was quiet as he waited for Dean to begin. He kept opening his mouth, then closing it, unable to figure out what to say. "There isn't much to say," he finally said. "It's just a voice. It sounds like me but it says really fucked up shit... _to_ me." He looked back down at Cas, who was staring up at him, his brows furrowed in worry.

"Like what?" Cas pressed.

Dean shook his head. "No way. I am not repeating it to you."

Cas bit his lip into his mouth, then let it pop back out before quietly saying, "I won't push you."

Dean sighed. He hated making Cas upset. And he figured that Cas would be more upset if Dean refused to talk to him. "It..." He hesitated. "It says horrible things... _about_ me."

"Is this where all the self-deprecation comes from?" Cas asked.

"No. This only started somewhat recently," he admitted. "Although at first I just thought it was my own thoughts. ...But it's obvious to me now that it's not."

Cas nodded, but he was quiet, thinking. Then he asked, "Do you think that's why you've been drinking more than usual, and... using?"

Dean swallowed. "I guess. Usually getting messed up quiets it down, but..." He thought back to that night with the mirror. "Sometimes it makes it worse."

Cas nodded somberly. He was understanding now the reason why Dean had punched through his bathroom mirror. Speaking of that, he was going to have to figure out a way to explain that to his parents. Finally he said, "I think you should see a psychiatrist."

"Hell no," Dean snapped, with more anger than he had intended.

Cas looked even sadder, like he had known Dean was going to fight him on it, but with the bit of progress Dean had made, he'd been hoping he wouldn't. "Why not?" he asked softly.

"Because," he huffed. "I don't need to go to someone and pour my heart out for them to certify me crazy, which I already fucking know, and then go off and laugh at me behind my back."

"Psychiatrists don't do that, Dean," Cas assured. "They are professionals. They went to school for this... because they want to help people."

Dean tossed his head back onto the couch and sighed in exasperation. "Fuck, Cas, I just started opening up to you and we've been best friends for years," he said, staring at the ceiling. "How the hell am I supposed to be honest enough with a stranger for them to even _begin_ to help me?"

Cas shrugged. "I'm not sure. But I think it's something you are going to have to work through sooner or later." He paused. "Before something bad happens." He turned his head so he was facing Dean's stomach again. "I just want you better Dean. And being happy means being better."

"Well... you make me happy," Dean said sheepishly, looking back down at Cas, who had his eyes closed.

Cas smiled into Dean's shirt. "The feeling is mutual." He paused. "But I can only help you so much, Dean. I'm not a psychiatrist."

"I know," Dean replied, his voice low.

Cas lifted his head. "What do you say we go clean up now?" Dean nodded and they rose from the couch to begin cleaning the house.

* * *

A few weeks went by. Cas' parents had been surprisingly okay with Dean living there. Cas said 'I told you so', but Dean just couldn't wrap his head around the fact that anybody would _want_ him around. Cas had called them during the night, the day before they were due back home from France, as Dean slept next to him. He spoke in whispered French, telling them everything. Well, mostly everything. How Dean was dealing with a drug problem, but he was getting better, and how he couldn't go home because of some fucked up shit with his dad, and yeah, he told them they were together now. Although he didn't tell Dean he told her that.

His mom had been only slightly surprised, and only because it was _Dean_. She had always thought her son had feelings for his friend, but she thought Dean was one-hundred percent straight. Guess she was wrong.

When his parents had arrived home, his mom hugged Dean as his father unloaded the bags from the car. "I'm glad you're here," she said into his ear, her accent thick, her chin on his shoulder. Dean often forgot Cas was French. His family had moved to the US when Cas was very young, so Cas didn't have an accent. The only clue that English wasn't really his "first" language was the weirdly literal way he structured his sentences, a result of being taught English by two non-native speakers who, while their English was spot-on, often translated things a bit too literally. But Dean had gotten used to that a long time ago.

"Thank you," Dean said nervously. He wasn't sure why he was so nervous, as Cas' parents had never been anything but nice to him. He was just so grateful that they were letting him stay, and of course he felt he didn't deserve their hospitality. "...So much."

Then they broke apart and Dean hurried out to help Mr. Novak with the luggage.

* * *

"Dean, what are we going to do for costumes?"

It was only one week until Halloween. They were planning on going to a party with Sam and Jess, but it was a costume party. No costume, no entry.

Cas was sitting at the desk rolling a joint. They had just gotten back from Dean picking him up from school. Dean was lying on the bed on his back, his arms folded behind his head. "I have no idea. You know I've never really been into that." He paused. "It sounds fun though."

Cas licked along the length of the paper and began sealing the joint.

Dean's eyes followed Cas' tongue. "You should be a girl," he blurted out before he could stop himself.

"What?" Cas asked, looking up at Dean in surprise. "I should've been a girl? Why?"

Dean shook his head. "No... I meant you should be a girl for Halloween. But forget it, it was stupid." He looked up at the ceiling.

Cas lit the joint and took a hit, passing it over to Dean. He was quiet for a moment before he said shrugged and said, "Okay."

Dean raised an eyebrow as he took his hit. "Really?" he asked as he held it in.

Cas shrugged. "Lots of guys do it. Although I find it odd that straight guys seem to think it's funny to pretend to be feminine, but not funny if you actually are." He scratched at his black pants with his thumb.

Dean exhaled. "Well... you're not feminine. But... being openly gay and all, I don't see it ending well for you. It was a dumb suggestion."

Cas frowned. "Yeah. You're right."

Dean thought for a moment. He had been getting a lot more comfortable talking about... _sex_ stuff with Cas, but it was still hard. And this was even harder. But it was already brought up, and bringing it up again if he didn't say what he wanted to say now, would look too eager. Finally he just spit it out. "You can still do it, I just wouldn't do it at the party," he said, trying for nonchalance.

Cas raised an eyebrow, reaching out to take the joint Dean was offering him. "Then what would be the point?"

Dean felt his face growing hot as he realized he hadn't thought this far ahead.

Cas exhaled and began laughing, and a large cloud hovered before them for a moment before dissipating towards the ceiling. "Oh my god. _You_ want me to wear women's clothes, don't you?"

Now Dean was definitely blushing. "Shut up," he grumbled, glaring at him.

Cas stood up and stepped towards the bed, sitting down next to Dean. "Aw, I'm sorry. It's not that I'm laughing at you, I swear." Dean believed him and his features softened a bit. "It's just the shy, coy way that you try to hint at it that I find funny. It's cute."

Dean figured his face must be as red as a tomato by now. "I'm not cute," he huffed, crossing his arms.

Cas tossed his head back. "And now a tantrum. _So_ cute!" He leaned over, on top of Dean, and pressed his lips against his. Dean kissed him back before Cas pulled away.

"Don't make me cut you," Dean growled up at him, but he was smirking.

"I'd like to see you try," Cas said flatly.

Dean lunged forward, pushing Cas off him. Cas nearly fell off the bed but caught himself just in time, until Dean's momentum knocked them both to the floor. They rolled around and wrestled for a few minutes before Dean grabbed Cas' arms and pinned him down on the carpet, straddling him. "Told ya! You can't handle me," Dean said proudly.

Cas stared up into his eyes, smiling. "You're right. I can't." He squirmed slightly under Dean's weight.

Dean felt Cas' boner perk up and poke him in the butt. He jumped a bit in surprise before leaning down, taking Cas' face in his hands, and kissing him roughly.

"Mmm," Cas mumbled into Dean's mouth before pulling away. "Parents."

Dean frowned. "Right."

* * *

"How do I look?" Cas asked, standing in front of the full-length mirror on his closet door.

"Ummm... holy?" Dean said.

Cas laughed. It was Halloween and Cas had settled on a different costume, although it was quite the opposite of what Dean had suggested. They weren't feeling very creative and just wanted to go to the party, so they decided to dress as priests. Easy, normal clothes so fairly comfortable, and unimaginative. Perfect.

Sam and Jess had refused to tell them what they were wearing, on the grounds it was a surprise, so when Dean pulled up to Jess' he had no idea what to expect. He called Sam and told him they were there, and the front door opened. Jess led the way. She was wearing a white dress that only had one shoulder strap, a pearl necklace, and an orange wig. Dean cocked his head, trying to rack his brain and figure out why it looked familiar. It clicked when Sam followed in an orange shirt with black spots, and a blue tie. They were Fred and Wilma Flinstone.

Dean chuckled as they clambered into the backseat. "I've got to give it to you guys, those costumes are pretty good."

"Thanks," Jess beamed. "I sewed them myself."

"So you guys are priests? Pretty boring, huh?" Sam asked with a grin.

"Shuddap," Dean said. "You know I'm not big on the Halloween thing. I gotta ease into 'playing dress-up'." He cranked the radio and they backed out of the driveway.

* * *

The party was alright. Dean could tell Cas was a bit uncomfortable. He was trying too hard to make things look normal between them, and he just ended up looking stiff and distant. Sam and Jess welcomed them to hang out with their group, even though they were mostly fifteen or sixteen. At nineteen, Dean felt like a weirdo, but they took them up on the offer anyway.

After a night of smoking, a little bit of alcohol for Cas, and even less for Dean- "You're driving," Cas had said- it was time to call it a night. They dropped Sam and Jess off at Jess'.

"I don't want to go home yet," was the first thing Cas said, before they had even pulled out of the driveway.

"Okay. Do you want to go down to the trail?"

Cas nodded, so that's where Dean drove them. At the curve, he parked and they climbed out, climbed over the rocks, and began walking down the trail. They came to the clearing where they had seen the deer a few weeks ago. Cas rolled a joint and sparked it up, and they laid back in the grass. The night was clear, and the sky was smattered with what looked like millions of stars. Cas rolled onto his side and rested his head on Dean's chest.

"Cas?"

"Hmm?"

"What was wrong at the party?"

Cas lifted his head. "Nothing, I just..." He sighed. "I had fun, but I was over-thinking, trying to make sure I didn't get too comfortable in front of everyone. Or they would find out, like Sam did." He paused. "I don't want to embarrass you," he admitted.

"Why would I be embarrassed of you?" Dean asked.

Cas sat up, leaning back on his palms and shrugged lightly. He wasn't really sure how Dean could even question why Cas would think that. "Because I'm living, breathing proof that you're attracted to men," he said sadly.

Dean felt his heart break as he could see Cas' eyes watering under the moonlight.

"Hey, hey, hey," Dean said, propping himself up on his right elbow and taking a hold of Cas' arm with his left hand. "Where is this coming from?"

Cas shrugged again. "We've been together for a little over a month now and it's great, but..." Dean felt like he couldn't breathe as he waited for Cas to finish. "I just feel like in public we are only friends, and... and it hurts my feelings," he finished, closing his eyes.

Dean was quiet, unsure of what to say. He let his hand fall away from Cas' arm, feeling his eyes stinging at the realization that he was hurting Cas.

Cas continued. "The only time you've kissed me was in the car when you picked me up that time, and you were drinking." He shrugged and looked away.

"Wait, I thought I...?" Dean started.

"No, I just didn't correct you when you thought you did. You seemed pretty embarrassed about what the cashier said that day, so I didn't want you to be upset with me if I told you I initiated it. So I just let it go."

"Fuck, Cas, I'm sorry..." Dean mumbled.

"I'm not used to having to hide anything about my life, Dean. I don't like it." His voice wavered.

"Cas..." he started, but wasn't sure where to go from there. Cas didn't move. "Look at me."

Cas slowly turned his head and looked at Dean, who sat all the way up and re-positioned himself so he was kneeling in the grass next to him. He took his face in his hands. "Don't you dare blame yourself and think you embarrass me. I'm embarrassed of _myself_. I'm..." He trailed off and sighed, looking down, his hands falling from Cas' face. "Cas..." He looked back up. "You are brave, and strong. Stronger than I'll ever be. I'm sorry that I made you feel this way. It's just really hard for me. I- I'm getting there, okay?" He wiped his eyes, then he reached out and grabbed Cas' hand.

Cas nodded and sniffled. Dean leaned in and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him in for a hug. He kissed Cas on the top of his head and pulled back, looking into his eyes. "If something's on your mind, tell me, okay?" Cas nodded again. "Do you want to go home?" Dean asked.

"No," Cas said. "It's really nice out." He seemed to have stopped crying.

"Lay back with me again," Dean said as he leaned back into the grass. Cas followed. They were quiet for a moment as Cas re-lit the joint that had died out. They finished smoking it and Cas snuffed it out in the dirt, then laid his head back again and closed his eyes, his elbows at his sides and his hands on his stomach.

Dean crept his hand to Cas' stomach and put his hand on his. Cas turned his over and Dean took it, brought their hands into the grass between them, and snaked his fingers through Cas'. They laid like this for a few minutes before Cas rolled over and nuzzled his face into Dean's neck.

Dean could feel Cas' warm breath on his neck. It smelled like beer. Cas was getting an erection, so he shifted, trying to discreetly reach into his pants and adjust himself. He then lifted his head and kissed Dean. Dean kissed him back, reaching up to cup his face in his hand. Cas sat up and placed his right hand on Dean's chest before breaking the kiss. "You've gained some weight back, you look good," he observed. He kissed Dean again before he could respond.

Dean groaned lightly into the kiss. Cas pulled back and began trying to un-do Dean's clerical collar before stopping. "Look at us, two gay priests. God would be pissed." He smirked.

"Yeah, if he existed," Dean replied, laughing.

Cas abandoned the top half of Dean's clothes and moved down to the pants, undoing them and pulling them down just enough to expose Dean's half-erect dick. The release of his jeans caused it to finish swelling, and Cas wasted no time grabbing on and putting it in his mouth.

Dean gasped. "Jesus, this was unexpected."

Cas didn't respond, just continued working his mouth up and down, massaging the base lightly. A few minutes went by and Dean was feeling himself starting to get close. "Almost," he muttered.

Cas pulled back. Dean whined.

"I have a surprise for you," Cas said mischievously.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? And what is this surprise that couldn't wait?" He grinned, reaching down to lightly tug on his aching cock.

Cas rose to his feet and began undressing. Dean's eyes widened as he saw he was wearing _lingerie_. He almost came right then and there. He had to let go of his dick, or he would've. "Holy fuck," he whispered.

Cas stood before him, his mouth twisted into a half-smile, half-wince. He had on a lacy pink tank top and matching underwear. He was already hard, and because he had re-adjusted himself as they were lying down, his dick was pressed up against his stomach, poking out through the front of the panties. "Do you like it?" he asked quietly.

Dean nodded dumbly.

Cas kneeled back down and kissed him again, then swung his leg over Dean and sat on his stomach. They made out like this for a few minutes, as Dean ran his hands all over Cas. Down his shoulders, up his sides beneath the tank top, squeezing his ass through the underwear.

Dean broke the kiss. "Holy fuck Cas, you are so hot," he panted.

Cas beamed. "I didn't think I would _ever_ hear that from you!"

Dean blushed. "I can't help it. I didn't think this would turn me on this much." He ran his fingers over the waistband of Cas' underwear, sending shivers through Cas. "A priest and a cross-dresser," he said to himself. He tucked his fingers in and tugged downward. The corner of his mouth turned upward in a small smile. Cas quickly dismounted Dean, yanked them off, and resumed his position.

Dean reached forward and took Cas' dick in his hand, tugging slowly, rubbing his thumb along the head. "Can we fuck?" he asked eagerly, rutting his hardened cock up along the crack of Cas' ass.

"Fuck yeah we can," Cas breathed, crawling backwards down onto Dean's legs and taking his dick in his mouth again. He left some extra saliva behind when he crawled forward again and lowered himself onto Dean. Dean tossed his head back into the grass and groaned, his hands on Cas' hips, as Cas lowered himself slowly, wincing slightly.

Once Cas was fully seated, Dean slowly started moving his hips, and Cas tossed his head back, letting out a long sigh and supporting himself with his left hand on Dean's chest. Dean quickly picked up the speed, grinding his hips into Cas as Cas reached down with his right hand and stroked his own cock. Staring up at Cas, riding his dick and tugging on his own, it wasn't long before Dean came with a loud grunt through gritted teeth. Cas finished shortly after, spurts of come landing on Dean's chest.

Cas laid down on top of Dean, his face buried in his neck. Dean wrapped his arm around Cas. "That was awesome."

"Yes," Cas agreed. They laid still for a few minutes before Dean stretched his arms out at his sides. Cas removed himself from Dean's member as Dean reached down to fix his pants. Cas got up, pulled the underwear back on, and began putting his priest's clothes back on as Dean lit two cigarettes.

As Cas was adjusting the collar, Dean held out a cigarette, smirking. "Here. For a job well done."


	18. Chapter 18

Dean couldn't tell Cas that he was still using. He tried to tell himself he didn't need to mention it because a few times a week wasn't often enough to be a problem, but he knew that wasn't true. Lying to Cas was eating him away inside.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"I said your name like three times. Are you okay?"

They were lying together on the bed, watching TV. Cas' family was still downstairs and they had just eaten Thanksgiving dinner. Cas' mom had insisted they invite Sam. He graciously accepted and ate more than his fill, before thanking Mrs. Novak profusely, giving Cas and Dean a hug, and heading home. Dinner had been awkward. One of Cas' Uncles had been giving Dean looks all night, and it was making him uncomfortable, but the subject was avoided until dinner was half-way over, alcohol had been consumed, and Cas' older brother Gabe asked how long they had been together. After Cas had answered, his Uncle just couldn't keep his mouth shut. He muttered something about them knowing if it was a sin. Before Cas could respond, his mother had snapped at him to be quiet; no one was going to belittle her son and his boyfriend in her own house, especially not family. He didn't say anything else, but the damage to Dean's mental state was already done. Cas had brushed it off, but Dean spent the rest of dinner sweating and trying not to vomit, Sam shooting him worried looks. Beneath the table, Cas squeezed his sweat-soaked hand.

"Yeah..." he finally responded. "I'm fine. Just thinking." He thought back to Cas' mom saying _boyfriend_. He still hadn't said that word. It made it all too real.

"Don't give a second thought to my Uncle, Dean. He's super religious."

Dean shrugged. "It's just frustrating."

Cas sighed. "I know. If he keeps that shit up, my mom's going to stop inviting him. And about time, too. He _always_ wants to talk about politics and he's got the _dumbest_ opinions."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Believe me, I noticed."

Cas laughed and gave Dean a kiss. He moved his hand from Dean's chest down to his stomach. It was soft. Living with Cas the cook and using less was causing him to gain weight.

"Cas, I have to tell you something."

The seriousness in Dean's voice caused Cas to lift his head and look at him. "What?"

"Please don't be mad."

"I won't be mad," Cas assured him.

Dean hesitated, then sighed. "It's not often, but... I'm still using." He looked away.

Cas took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he re-opened them, he said, "Thank you for telling me." Dean didn't respond. "What can I do about it, though?"

"I don't know. Take my car keys when you go to school. Take my money. Take my phone. Tie me to the bed for all I care," Dean muttered.

"That's awfully controlling, Dean. I can't do that. Maybe you should get a job while I'm at school, instead of cleaning the house for my parents. I can do the cleaning. Keep yourself busy," he suggested.

"That sounds like a good idea," Dean agreed.

Satisfied with this agreement, Cas laid his head back on Dean's chest. "I'm tired from all the turkey. Want to head to bed?"

Dean nodded. They undressed, hit the light, and climbed under the blanket.

* * *

It was December. Dean had gotten a job at a record store. Today he had gotten out late and was rushing across town to pick Cas up from school, excited to tell Cas it had been two weeks exactly since he last used. He still had his moments where he drank too much, but mostly he just smoked with Cas and took his allotted one pill a day.

Cas felt his heart skip when he exited the school and saw the Impala parked out front, running. Dean had slowly been showing more affection in public, like holding hands at the movies or when they went out to eat. He would kiss him quickly in parking lots and when he picked him up. Cas was happy with this progress, and was looking forward to seeing Dean after a long day at school. He hurried forward with a spring in his step, but about half-way there he was stopped by someone suddenly stepping out in front of him.

It was Derek, the jerk from Cas' second period class. "Where you runnin' off too, Cassie?"

Cas tilted his head and looked at him like he was stupid. "Um, home?"

"Don't get smart with me, _faggot_ ," he growled.

Cas straightened his neck and swallowed, but stood his ground. "Fuck off," he grumbled.

"You know, today I don't think I will," he smirked, as his friend who sat in front of him in class appeared behind him. "I think you need an attitude re-adjustment," Derek sneered.

Cas' eyes flicked past Derek to the Impala. He had his blade in his trench coat, but he preferred not to use it unless absolutely necessary. Dean, who had been watching, couldn't tell what was going on, but could tell Cas was tense. He opened the door and climbed out, slamming it behind him and walking up the sidewalk.

"Is there a problem over here?" he asked as he approached, flicking his cigarette to the ground.

Derek turned around. "And who the fuck are you?"

"Don't worry about that." His eyes shifted to Cas and back to Derek. "Is. There. A problem?" he repeated.

Derek laughed. "Yeah, this queer needs his face rearranged." He jerked his thumb in Cas' direction. "Why do you care? What are you, his _boyfriend_?" Behind him, his friend snickered.

Dean's hands clenched into fists. Before he could change his mind, he growled, "Yeah. As a matter of fact, I am. So what?" He stared him straight in the eyes.

Derek burst out laughing. " _Another_ one?" He turned to his friend. "Can you believe this shit?" He turned back to Dean, looking him up and down with disgust. "Wait a minute... I know you." He paused, and then realization washed over his face. "You're Dean. Dean Winchester. _You're_ taking it up the ass now? Oh, this is too good," he laughed.

Dean didn't break eye contact with Derek. "Cas, go wait in the car."

"Dean-" Cas started.

"Now!" he barked.

Cas jumped, recollected himself, and hurried off towards the car.

Derek frowned. "Come on man, now I gotta beat somebody else up."

Dean narrowed his eyes at him, flexing his fingers at his sides. "Why don't you try me?" He may have gained some weight, but he could still kick some ass, and the adrenaline was flowing.

Derek scoffed before lunging at Dean, fist reeled back. Dean side-stepped and punched him in the side of the face. Derek turned and tried to come at him again. Dean kicked him in the stomach with the heel of his boot. At this point his friend felt it necessary to attempt to jump in. Dean grabbed him by the arm and yanked him to the ground, knocking the breath from his lungs. He was smart and stayed down. Derek came at him a third time, and Dean punched him square in the nose. He fell to his knees, clutching his face, blood leaking through his fingers.

Dean stared down at him through narrowed eyes. "Make sure you tell everyone you got your ass kicked by a _faggot_ ," he spat, before turning and walking back to the car.

As he climbed in, Cas was quiet. He couldn't believe Dean not only just admitted to two of their peers- and homophobic peers at that- that they were together, but then he had beat them up. He glanced out the window, where Derek's friend was helping him up. "T- thank you, Dean," he managed quietly.

"Nobody talks to my man like that," Dean grumbled, cranking up the radio and peeling off.

When they returned home, they had the house to themselves as Cas' parents were off somewhere and weren't due back until the evening. They went straight upstairs, where Cas admitted watching Dean kick the shit out of somebody had turned him on like crazy. They had amazingly rough sex, Dean topping, finally feeling like a man again for the first time in months.

* * *

Cas was lying on the bed, reading a book. Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed, playing Cas' guitar. It was January, and outside the window, the snow was falling softly, a light coating already sticking to every surface.

 _"Carry on my wayward son  
_ _there'll be peace when you are done_  
Lay your weary head to rest  
don't you cry no moreeee"

He set the guitar against the wall with a sigh and leaned back, using Cas' stomach as a pillow. "Let me know if you ever get tired of that song," he joked.

Cas looked up from his book. "I will never get tired of listening to you play."

Dean smiled and let out a small laugh, turning to Cas. "Thanks."

Cas glanced out the window. "I hope we get enough snow for a snowman."

Dean agreed, but stayed quiet, closing his eyes. These past few weeks had been nice. Things were peaceful, and he hadn't heard the voice since the night he beat that kid up at the school.

Things could never stay that way though. "Carry on My Wayward Son" began playing again and Dean dug into his pocket for his phone.

"It's Sam," he said to Cas. "Hello?"

" _Dean!_ Dean, you gotta get over here."

Dean shot up in bed. "What? What's going on?" He could hear his father drunkenly yelling in the background.

"Dad's flipping the fuck out, please just get here."

"I'm on my way." He launched himself off the bed, grabbing his jacket and pulling it on. He kneeled down in front of his bag, grabbing something and shoving it into his inside jacket pocket.

"Dean? What's going on?" Cas asked from the bed, his book face-down on his lap as Dean tied his boots.

"Sam said my dad's flipping out, I have to go handle this. Stay here," he said, standing up and heading for the door.

"No, wait! I'm coming with you," Cas said as he got off the bed and started putting his shoes on.

Dean turned around. "Cas, this could get ugly. You really should stay here."

Cas shook his head, tugging his trenchcoat on. "No."

Dean sighed. "Fine. But don't get involved." He paused. "And don't pay attention to anything he says. He's psycho."

Cas nodded as he followed Dean down the stairs and they rushed out to the Impala. Dean cranked the key in the ignition and backed out of the driveway, sliding a little.

"Please be careful, Dean," Cas said quietly. He knew Dean needed to get to his brother as fast as possible, but... "No one will help Sam if we get into an accident."

"You're right," Dean said. It took them only a little longer than usual to get to Dean's old house. Dean scrambled out of the car. He could already hear his father yelling from the driveway. The front door was locked, so he stepped back and kicked it in, rushing inside. Cas trailed behind him, looking around nervously.

There was banging coming from upstairs. Dean rushed up and saw John pounding on Sam's door. "Come on out, Sammyyyy," he slurred. "Your- your brother's not here to protect you anymore." He was so drunk he hadn't even heard Dean kick the front door in.

"Hey!" Dean yelled, standing at the top of the stairs.

John turned around. He looked shocked for a moment, then laughed. "Well, well, well. Looooook who it is." He noticed Cas standing behind him. "Aw, and you brought your widdle friend."

"Why are you fucking with Sam? I thought we had a deal."

Cas looked over at him, confusion plastered on his face.

"And you left," John said, waving his hand dismissively. He turned back to Sam's door and pounded on it again. "Open up and get what's comin to ya, dammit!"

"Back off," Dean growled.

"What are you and your- your queer li'l friend gonna do about it?" he snapped.

Dean reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pistol. The sound of the slide and the bullet entering the chamber caused John to turn around, finding himself staring down the barrel.

Cas took a step back, nearly falling down the stairs, but caught himself. "Dean-" Dean ignored him.

John smirked. "You really... you really gonna use that?" he slurred.

Dean didn't break his gaze. "Try me." When John didn't respond, Dean waved the gun to the side. "Move."

John glared at him but backed away from the door. Keeping the gun on him, Dean rushed to the door. "Sammy! It's me! Open up!"

There was noise inside as Sam scrambled to the door. He flung it open and threw his arms around Dean, who hugged him back with his left arm, his right still pointing the gun at John. He looked up at Dean. "Thank god you're here," he whispered.

Dean noticed his cheek was red and slightly swollen. He looked over at John, who was swaying drunkenly. "Sam, go outside with Cas."

Sam didn't argue and looked at John quickly before rushing over to Cas, who led him down the stairs and out to the car.

Dean leaned forward, staring straight into John's eyes. "If you _ever_ touch him again, I will blow your fucking head off."

John didn't say anything. Dean lowered the gun and went into Sam's room and grabbed his schoolbag, some papers and books off his desk, and his laptop.

John stood in the doorway. "Lemme guess, you're living with that fag now?"

Dean didn't respond as he gathered some things he knew Sam would want or need.

"I always knew you'd turn out to be a-" he hiccuped "-a nancy. I tried to raise you right." He paused. "Then that faggot came along," he scoffed.

Dean was _so_ tired of hearing that word. He spun around. "Tried to raise me? Are you fucking _joking_? You beat the living piss out of me and left me to raise Sam on basic cable and spaghetti-o's while you were out getting drunk and blowing all of our money on hookers. Fuck you." He threw Sam's backpack over his shoulder and went into the dresser to grab some clothes. "And don't ever call Cas a faggot again."

"I'll call your little _boyfriend_ whatever the hell I want," he sneered.

Dean shoved the clothes into a duffel bag that had been lying on the floor, then turned and walked up to John, leaning forward into his face. "You must be a special kind of stupid, saying some shit like that to someone who just had a gun pointed at you."

John didn't reply, just twisted his mouth mockingly, and Dean turned and exited the room, hurried down the stairs, and climbed into the car, tossing Sam's stuff into the backseat. "I grabbed some of your stuff Sammy."

"Thanks," Sam said quietly from the backseat.

Dean turned the car on and pulled out, once again sliding on the snow. He drove slow, and the car was quiet. Even the radio was off. The only sound was the snow crunching under the tires through the open windows as Dean and Cas puffed on cigarettes.


	19. Chapter 19

They arrived at Cas' and shuffled inside. Thankfully his parents were gone. They weren't home much. Dean figured they were either off working, or off spending their money somewhere. They traveled to France a lot to visit family that still lived there.

Sam dropped his bags by the front door and Dean turned around. "I knew I shouldn't have fucking left," he said angrily, throwing his hands up. "What the hell happened?"

Sam shrugged, staring down at the floor. "He came home really drunk, and started yelling at me right away. I guess he thought he asked me to do something... but he didn't ask me, I swear. I would've remembered." He paused, shuffling his feet. "When I tried to tell him that, it... it escalated from there." He looked up at Dean.

Cas was off in the kitchen. Dean could hear pots and pans banging around. He rubbed his hand over his face and closed the distance between he and Sam, hugging him tightly. "I'm just glad you're here." He paused. "But you're not going back there. We'll figure something out."

"Where did you get a gun?" Sam blurted out into Dean's shoulder before he could stop himself.

"I was wondering the same thing," Cas said flatly, now standing in the entryway to the kitchen.

Dean leaned back and looked down at Sam, still not letting go of him. "Don't worry about it. It got the job done, didn't it?"

Sam stared at him blankly. "Would... would you really have shot him?" he whispered.

Dean furrowed his brows and stared right back at Sam. "I would do _anything_ to protect you, Sammy. You're my little brother." He released him from the hug and stepped back.

Sam smiled. "It's Sam," he mumbled, letting out a small laugh.

Dean smiled back and turned to Cas. "Did I hear the sound of dinner being made?"

Cas grinned. "Yes. It should be ready in twenty."

And that was it. Cas never asked him about "having a deal", with John. That was all over now.

* * *

After the incident with John, Sam went to live at Jessica's. Cas' parents had invited him to stay in their spare room, but with Jessica's offer on the table as well, Sam obviously went there; although he was extremely grateful to the Novaks for extending to him the same hospitality that they had shown Dean. He and Dean continued to check in with each other daily. Sometimes Dean and Cas gave he and Jessica a ride home from school. It had been hard to not run out and use, to forget it all, when he'd had to pull a gun on his father, especially because the voice seemed to pick at him more when he was stressed. Add the guilt of leaving Sam alone with John in the first place, and Dean felt horrible. But with Cas' help, he gotten through it with only two days of excessive drinking and only a small amount of moping.

The March sun peeked through the curtains, waking Dean up as it seeped through his eyelids. He rolled over and looked at the clock. It was already six, but he had the day off. He rolled over and gently shook Cas, who was lying on his side, his back turned to Dean. "Hey, don't you have school?"

Cas mumbled something in French into the pillow.

"What? _English_ , Cas. School. _École_ ," he reiterated, proud of himself for remembering. Cas had been trying to teach him French. "It's six o'clock."

Cas lifted his head and mumbled, " _Spring break_ ," before dropping his head back down, so Dean stopped trying to wake him up. Instead, he rolled over and wrapped his arm around him. In response, Cas snuggled up backwards into Dean.

Dean felt his cock wake up and stiffen, pressing into the back of Cas' leg, but he ignored it. He wasn't going to wake Cas up just for sex, even though it had been nearly a week since they'd done anything. Dean was honestly feeling kind of self-conscious, worried that it was because of the weight he'd continued to put on. It had been six months since he had moved in with Cas, and while he wasn't exactly gaining _quickly_ , Cas had been cooking breakfast every morning and dinner every night. Add that to the fast food he'd been getting on his lunch break five days a week at work, and it was slowly piling on.

Cas stirred and rolled over to face Dean. He put his hand on Dean's side, squeezing, before dragging his fingers across his stomach and palming the bulge in his boxers. "Hello," he purred, pressing his lips to Dean's, smiling against his lips.

Dean's face grew red and his dick grew harder as he slowly reciprocated the kiss. Cas slid his hand into his boxers and stroked his shaft. Dean wasn't sure why after a week Cas was suddenly horny, but he wasn't going to question it. Sometimes he didn't feel like fooling around either... it just wasn't usually for a whole week. He kissed Cas back, and their tongues slid across each other for a moment before Cas pulled away. "Scoot up."

Dean shifted and scooted backwards so he was leaning against the headboard. Cas grabbed the waist of his boxers on either side and yanked down. Dean loved it when Cas took control, even though he wouldn't admit it. Cas took his dick in his hand and licked the tip before dragging his tongue down the shaft, stopping just before the balls. Dean shuddered and sighed.

Cas set his hand on Dean's inner thigh, continuing to hold himself up with his left. He bobbed up and down, deep throating Dean, lightly kneading the inside of his thigh. "Fuuuck," Dean moaned, letting his head fall back, his legs quivering slightly. Cas' hand traveled up to his stomach, rubbing, squeezing, and kneading.

Dean couldn't stop himself from twitching uncomfortably. Cas moved his hand back down to his inner thigh and continued sucking. Soon the feeling of the back of Cas' throat bumping against the tip of Dean's cock so early in the morning was too much for Dean in his sleepy haze, and he exploded into his mouth, tossing his head back and biting down hard on his lip in an attempt to stifle his moan so Cas' parents didn't hear.

Cas swallowed and crawled back up to the top of the bed, giving Dean a kiss before curling up next to him.

Dean wrapped his arm around him. "That was amazing, thank you," he breathed.

Cas nodded. They were quiet for a moment before he asked, "Why didn't you like it when I touched your stomach? You used to like that." He frowned and tilted his head.

Dean sighed. Cas was so blunt. If he had a question, as long as it wasn't something _he_ was embarrassed about, he didn't hesitate to ask. "Well... in case you haven't noticed, it's not exactly the same as it was four months ago," he muttered, staring at the ceiling. He didn't see the point in lying. Cas had seen him at his worst. And it had certainly been worse.

"What are you talking about?" Cas asked innocently, although he knew perfectly well.

Dean rolled his eyes, settling them on Cas. "Oh come on, don't play dumb. I can barely button my jeans at this point."

Cas shrugged. "People grow out of jeans," he said, as if he was stating a fact.

"Not when they're fucking twenty," Dean muttered.

Cas frowned, putting his hand on Dean's chest. "It's only one size." He made little circles with his finger. "Why does it bother you?"

"I dunno..." He paused. "I look gross. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Cas assured. "If you really want to know the truth..." He hesitated, his cheeks flushing pink. "I kinda like it."

"Come on Cas, don't lie to make me feel better," Dean mumbled, looking away.

"I'm not," Cas protested, pulling his hand away. "Although even if I didn't like it, I would still like it because it's _you_." He stared at him lovingly.

Dean looked back at him and smiled weakly, a small sliver of teeth visible between his lips. "What the hell did I do to deserve you?"

Cas shrugged and leaned in to kiss him, sliding his hands down to his stomach again. Dean twitched involuntarily. "Sorry, it still feels weird."

Cas understood and recoiled his hand. "Do you have to work today?" he asked.

Dean shook his head. "Nah, I've got the day off."

Cas snuggled up into Dean again and they effortlessly fell back into sleep.

They awoke around nine, showered, and got dressed. From the desk chair, Cas watched Dean struggling with his button in the mirror. "Why don't we go get you new clothes?" he suggested, before hitting the bong he was holding in his lap.

Dean sighed. "Because then I can't be in denial anymore," he said flatly.

"Oh, stop it," Cas said, exhaling his hit. "Do you really want to walk around cutting off circulation to your lower half? You're going to make your dick fall off over your damnable pride," he scolded jokingly.

Dean sighed again, giving up on the button and staring in the mirror. It wasn't that bad, but it was noticeable. A small ring of pudge that had wrapped itself around his midsection, settling on his hips, ever so slowly creeping up his ribs. "Yeah, I guess," he mumbled.

They walked around the mall before finding a store that had jeans similar to what Dean wore. He'd insisted on getting nearly identical jeans. He hated clothes shopping, and he was frustrated to find he had actually gone up two sizes. The voice jabbed at him in the dressing room, kicking him when he was down, taking advantage of the fact he was alone, savoring the opportunity to torture him as he stared into the mirror. He ignored it and Cas paid for a few pairs of jeans before Dean hurried back out into the mall, gripping the handles of the store's plastic bag tightly. They door was in sight, they were so close, when Cas stopped. "Can we get some ice cream?" he asked excitedly, like a child, eyeing an ice cream stand.

"Um, you can. I'm good," Dean replied, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

Cas rolled his eyes. "Oh, come _on_ Dean." He turned around and headed towards the shop, his trench coat trailing behind him. Dean followed and stood behind him as he tapped his fingers on the counter, squinting at the menu. "Can I just have a small chocolate soft serve in a cone, please?" Cas asked the cashier.

She nodded and grabbed a cone off the shelf. "What about you, sweetie?" she said, looking at Dean, her other hand hovering over the cones.

"I'm good," he said, shaking his head slightly and putting his hands up in a gesture of refusal.

"He'll have what I'm having," Cas said quickly.

Dean shot him a glare and Cas shot him one right back. The cashier returned with their ice cream and Cas handed her seven dollars and told her to keep the change. Cas began licking his soft serve hungrily as they walked away from the counter. Dean just stared at his as he trailed behind. "Aren't you going to eat it?" Cas asked impatiently, stopping and turning around.

"I didn't really want any," Dean mumbled. "It's _December_." He felt like a girl. He had _never_ been concerned with his weight before in his life. Where was this coming from?

Cas shrugged and headed towards the door. Dean followed, secretly wishing they'd done this sooner. Cas wasn't kidding about jeans cutting off your circulation. By the time they got to the Impala, Dean's ice cream was starting to melt, pooling around his fingers. He licked around the edge of the cone and switched hands, wiping the other on his jeans. Fuck, he had to admit it was good ice cream, and Cas had already paid for it. They settled into the front seat and Dean began to eat it before it could melt anymore and drip all over the car.

"There ya go," Cas said, half-way finished with his own.

"Yeah, well, you already paid for it," Dean said, his tongue darting out to lick some off his top lip. "And if I don't eat it, it'll melt all over my damn car."


	20. Chapter 20

When they got home, they headed upstairs and Cas sat himself at the desk, packing a bowl. Dean didn't want to change immediately, but he couldn't even sit without his jeans digging into his waist uncomfortably. As he buttoned his new jeans, Cas asked from behind him, "Better?"

"Yeah," Dean said quietly. "But I can't fill these out, too. So stop feeding me," he said accusingly, walking over to the bed.

Cas frowned. "Sorry." He paused. "But honestly, I'd rather see you eat than... y'know, use." He shrugged and looked down at the desk.

"Yeah, well..." Dean said, sitting down on the bed, "I can't replace one addiction for another. So stop tempting me."

"Okay. I'm sorry." He took a hit off the bowl and passed it to Dean, who did the same and passed it back. "But..." he began, as if the words had been sitting on his lips forever. "Do you want to know what I really think?"

Dean just stared at him, a lump rising in his throat.

"I think you're feeling _too_ good," he said slowly, staring at Dean.

Dean just stared back at him even longer, his face drenched with confusion. "I- I don't under-"

Cas interrupted him. "And you don't know how to process it. You're away from your father. _Sammy_ is away from your father. You aren't using, you have a job... you're finally coming to terms with who you are, and you're here..." He paused, his cheeks pinkening slightly. "With me." He paused again before quickly picking back up, as if he couldn't keep up with his thoughts. "And I think you can't handle that. I think you need _something_ to worry about, _something_ to stress over," he rambled, the words pouring out of him like it should have been so obvious, like it was written on Dean's face and he was just reading it off a teleprompter. "It's like you are hard-wired for stress. If it doesn't exist, you will find it." He leaned back in his chair, as if what he had said was some kind of admission that had been clawing to get out, and he was relieved it had finally been said, before eventually breaking eye contact and looking down to hit the bowl.

Dean was speechless. It kind of made sense. Add all that on top of the fact he was never very happy with himself in the first place, it just had always been projected inward- at who he was as a person, not what he looked like. Was this his mind twisting things around on him, because for once, he was realizing that he should be _proud_ of himself? That he _wanted_ to be happy- but he didn't know how?

Cas exhaled his hit and stared at him again for a minute, squinting slightly, before breaking the silence. "Dean?"

Dean shook his head a little as he came back to reality. "I- I'm sorry. You're... you're right," he said, his voice trembling with realization.

"Why are you sorry?" Cas asked.

"Because..." Dean trailed off. "I always make it about me," he said quietly, his voice shaking.

Cas shook his head. "That wasn't what I was getting at, Dean. My point was..." He trailed off, leaning forward on his knees, thinking for a moment. "You need to give yourself a break."

His words hit Dean like one of his father's drunken punches. Suddenly everything flashed before him- from as early on as he could remember, whatever he could remember, whatever he hadn't blocked out. His father's drunken, mental illness-fueled tirades, backing Dean into a corner as he trembled on the floor. His father screaming about Dean's dead mother, about his own parents, his coworkers, nothing and everything all at once; things that didn't make sense to Dean and still didn't, as a small Dean laid crumpled on the floor, half of him silently pleading for John to forget Sammy was there, forget he was sleeping in the other room, the other half pleading for John to just drop dead already. In that moment, he felt like he was still that crumpled heap of a boy on the floor. He remembered arguing with his father over Sam refusing dinner when he had no appetite; he couldn't blame the kid, he never had much of one either. Vehemently denying his fathers accusations of homosexuality, as if it could even be denied. As if beating it out of him could ever change him. Telling his father: _Leave Sam alone, take me. Take me instead._ Always sending Sam upstairs to hide and cover his ears, and absorbing his father's rage himself, even if only to prevent his brother from suffering the same fate and turning out just like him- wracked with nightmares, body aching from the fists, skin stinging from the welts, mind numb from the screaming and reeling from the degradation. No one deserved that treatment, and he would be damned if John fucked them _both_ up- Sammy had a future. What did he have? Nothing, really. He was dumb and immature and selfish and-

His reeling mind came to a grinding halt as he realized where he was sitting. Who he was with. What he had just said to him. _You need to give yourself a break._

His throat clamped shut and his eyes felt like someone had just poured acid into them. He tried to slam them shut, force the tears back down, but they came through like a floodgate as his eyelids lowered, breaking the surface tension. He tried to choke something out; he didn't even know what, but he needed to hear his own voice to bring him back to reality. Hear his own voice bouncing back to him off these walls- Cas' walls. But nothing came out, and Cas swiftly rose from his chair and had Dean in his arms in an instant.

"Hey, hey," he said, squeezing him. "It's okay. Let it out. You need a good cry, sometimes we all do."

Dean turned into him and weakly lifted his arms, grasping at the sleeves of Cas' trench coat as he sobbed into his shoulder.

Cas lightly patted his back. "Let it out, Dean. This is a new beginning for you, okay? Things will be better." He paused. "I promise," he added, staring at the wall behind Dean, where the picture of them smoking a blunt on the trail when they were fifteen was still pinned to the wall. He felt himself longing for simpler times, until he realized those time had been anything but simple for Dean.

Cas stiffened a bit and kissed the top of Dean's head. "Hey. Look at me."

Dean pulled back and looked up at Cas, sniffling, reaching up to wipe his nose with his jacket sleeve.

Cas looked into his eyes, and Dean felt like Cas' blue eyes were boring into his soul. Cas' lips parted slowly and he whispered, "It will all be okay," before pressing them softly to Dean's. He could taste the salt from his tears on his lips, and it broke his heart. He hated seeing Dean cry. Strong, brave, amazing Dean, reduced to a blubbering mess on his bed. The bed that six months ago had become _their_ bed. Because now Dean was his and no one else's, and he didn't want it any other way, even if that meant that Dean's obstacles were now his own. It didn't matter, because he loved him. More than he had ever loved anyone. And that's what you did for people you loved. You did your best to shoulder their pain, to wipe their tears, to bring them joy.

Dean leaned into the kiss, all thought falling away, and Cas leaned over him before pulling back, hovering his lips over Dean's, slightly brushing them together before pressing his lips to Dean's again. Dean opened his mouth and Cas roughly shoved his tongue in, reaching up with his right hand to hold Dean's face. He felt Dean's dick rising as his hands trailed across Cas' lower back, and he pulled back to begin unbuttoning Dean's jeans. After sliding them off, he pulled his own down before climbing back onto Dean, kissing him again.

Dean snaked his fingers up the back of Cas' neck and twisted his fingers into his hair. Cas pulled away and began trailing kisses down Dean's neck. He pushed his shirt up, pressing his mouth to his collarbone and trailing down again. He stopped at his nipple, nipping at it playfully. Dean jumped. Cas continued down his chest, over his stomach, and grabbed onto his dick, taking it in his mouth.

"Shittttt, Cas," Dean groaned. Cas came back up and pushed his own pants down quickly. He kissed Dean again, grinding his hips down onto him, their dicks gliding across each other, slick with spit and precome. Dean moaned into Cas' mouth, wrapping his arm around him and pulling him closer. Cas reached down and squeezed Dean's balls momentarily, before continuing down further.

Dean jumped and broke their kiss, snapping his legs shut involuntarily. Cas lifted his head up and looked at Dean, his eyebrows furrowed, searching Dean's face for a clue. "I'm sorry. I understand if you don't want to. I'll st-"

"No," Dean said quickly. "I- It's okay, it's just... do you think I could be on top?" he asked.

"Yeah," Cas replied quietly, dragging the back of his fingers across Dean's cheek. "Yeah, okay." He climbed off of Dean and laid back on the pillows.

Dean sat up and moved towards him. "Can you flip over?" he asked softly.

Cas nodded and rolled over, propping his ass up. Dean reached into the desk drawer and grabbed the lube, squirting some into his palm and reaching around to take Cas' dick. Cas buried his face in the pillow with a groan. Dean brought his hand back around and rubbed his thumb on Cas' perineum briefly before sliding his index finger into him. He quickly followed with a second, then a third, enjoying watching Cas squirm beneath him. He pulled his fingers out and Cas went a little limp. "Ready?" Dean whispered.

Cas nodded and Dean pushed himself in, maybe a little too quickly. Cas gasped.

"Shit, I'm sorry... did- did I hurt you?" Dean asked worriedly.

"No, you're good," Cas said, muffled into the pillow.

Dean lowered his head and began thrusting, gripping Cas' hips tight. He leaned forward over Cas and quickly slid his right hand around Cas' side and took his aching member in his grip, tugging and twisting in rhythm with his thrusting.

"You are so good to me, Cas," he breathed into his ear. "I just wish I could do something for you- _anything_." His voice wavered. "To show you how much you mean to me. To show you that you _saved_ me." He paused, thrusting again. "But all I have to offer is this." He pushed in and out, ever slowly, massaging Cas' cock with the same timing. "All I can do is fuck you good."

Cas moaned. "You have so much more to offer, Dean," he mumbled into the pillow, sighing. "And you do so much for me. You make life worth living."

Dean felt his heart skip as Cas said this. He couldn't imagine a life without Cas, but he still couldn't fathom that Cas really truly felt the same way about him. That Cas _could_ feel the same way about him. He couldn't understand why he was so special. He didn't verbally respond, but he did pick up his speed, both with his dick and his hand. After a few minutes of this, Cas let out a cry into the pillow, coming onto Dean's hand and all over the bedspread, twitching slightly. As he did so, Dean felt him tighten around him, and with one last hard thrust he spilled into Cas with a loud gasp, fingernails digging into Cas' sides. He slowly pulled out with a small sigh and carefully laid down on his stomach next to Cas. Cas turned his head and Dean gave him a kiss, pulling away slowly. Dean's eyes fluttered open and they found themselves simply staring into each other's eyes for a moment.

"What?" Dean asked, a small, weak smile creeping onto his face.

Cas closed his eyes and sighed, running fingers over Dean's chest. "Nothing. I'm just thinking about how much I never ever want you to leave." He re-opened his eyes and Dean was still staring into them.

"I'm not going anywhere," he assured, draping his arm over Cas as Cas leaned into the crook of his neck.

They stayed like this for a moment before Cas said, "I think we should go shower and change the blanket."

Dean laughed. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea."

They rolled off the bed and Cas pulled off the blanket, tossing it towards the laundry basket. They meandered into the shower, cleaning up, their hands and lips exploring each other all over again as the hot water rained down on them. But this time it didn't end in sex, it didn't end in oral; it didn't even end in a handjob. It ended with Cas holding Dean tightly as he cried into him again, promising him it would be okay, if he just gave it time.


	21. Chapter 21

Cas sat at his desk in the dark, watching Dean sleep, tossing and turning lightly. As he pulled on a joint, the cherry glowed brighter, slightly illuminating the wrinkled lines of worry on his face. His thoughts wandered back to their shower.

_"It won't stop." Dean dug his nails into Cas' shoulders._

_"What won't stop?" He gripped Dean tightly._

_"The goddamn voice," he whimpered, his voice cracking._

Cas blinked into the darkness. He wasn't sure if Dean could get through this by himself. He wasn't sure if he was enough to get Dean through this. He opened up his laptop and started doing some research.

* * *

"Hey, good morning," Cas sad softly, sitting down on the bed and leaning over Dean, his hand on the bed next to Dean's hip.

Dean stirred, groaning. He rolled over and his eyes cracked open, slowly focusing on Cas. He threw his arm over his eyes. "Mornin'."

"I called out of work for you," Cas said.

"I really can't afford that," he said, unmoving.

Cas frowned. "Stop Dean, you know I will take care of you."

He moved his arm now, but continued staring up at the ceiling. "I should be the one taking care of you."

"Why? Why can't we take care of each other?" Cas insisted.

Dean didn't answer right away. "Because that's just the way it's supposed to be," he said finally.

Cas lifted his hand and set it on Dean's knee. "Dean... I didn't want to say this as soon as you woke up, but... I really think you should see someone."

Dean looked at him now. "What do you mean?" he asked slowly.

Cas pursed his lips. "A psychiatrist." He braced himself for an argument. For refusal, denial.

Dean closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. "Okay."

Cas' eyes widened. "O- okay?" he stammered. Had he heard him correctly?

"Yeah. I'll go," he said, his voice monotone, his eyes re-opening to once again stare up at the ceiling.

"I... okay." He paused. "Sorry, I was expecting you to fight me on it."

Dean shrugged, biting his lip and holding it for a second or two before letting it pop back out. "I can't live in this head anymore," he said quietly, and Cas felt his heart crumbling. He sounded dead inside, like something had finally broken the night before.

"I know, Dean," Cas said, sadness clouding his face. "We're going to get it fixed up. Okay?"

"I don't think there's any fixing me, Cas." He paused. "But we can try. I'll go down swinging, like always."

* * *

Cas signed Dean up for Medicaid, so that he at least had insurance, but it had been a month before Dean could get an appointment with a psychiatrist. Some places didn't have initial appointments available for a _year_. Cas had been angry, ranting about how the country's mental health system was a joke; no wonder people couldn't get help, no wonder people were dying.

Everyone told him the same thing- if your friend is in crisis, take him to the emergency room. They will evaluate him and if he is a danger to himself, he will be admitted to inpatient treatment. But Dean wouldn't do that, and Cas knew it. And he also knew that Dean could be fine one minute, and not fine the next. An evaluation and seventy-two hour hold in the psychiatric ward wasn't going to fix that.

It didn't give Dean hope. He spent the month moping, missing more days of work than he cared to admit. He checked in on Sammy, he played guitar, he drank... anything to distract himself.

The morning of his appointment, he woke up to birds chirping outside the open window, and the April breeze drifting in. He wearily opened his eyes and looked next to him. He always had to make sure Cas was still there, that he hadn't finally gotten tired of his shit, decided he was fed up and packed up Dean's stuff, and was sitting, waiting in the desk chair for him to wake up- to tell him to go and never come back.

But Cas was there, his shoulder rising and falling slightly as he breathed deeply in his sleep. Dean snaked his arm around his waist, scooting closer to him. He heard Cas sigh contently in his sleep. For a moment, he told himself things were fine- he would call and he would cancel, apologizing for wasting the appointment slot and hoping they could find someone in crisis to fit in- someone more worthy of the spot, of the help, than he was.

But the thought was fleeting as Cas shifted and rolled over, sleepily opening his eyes. "Big day today," he murmured.

"Yeah," Dean said hoarsely.

Cas reached up and touched his face. "I will be right there in the waiting room. I won't leave you."

The Impala pulled up into the parking lot. The large brown stucco building was almost an eyesore, solely situated on top of a hill, set in front of the calm gray April sky. Dean tilted his head back and closed his eyes, taking in a sharp breath and exhaling it slowly.

Cas killed the engine and reached over, placing his hand on Dean's. "You okay?"

Dean opened his eyes and nodded, still staring straight ahead.

"Can you do me a favor, Dean?" he asked. Dean turned his head to look at him. "When you get scared, or embarrassed, please just remember that these people are here to help you. This is what they do. And that when it's over I will be waiting for you." He paused. "Okay?" Dean nodded slowly. "Okay," Cas repeated, giving him a small smile.

They slowly climbed out of the car, slamming the doors shut behind them, and walked up towards the building. Dean checked in and they claimed two seats. The waiting room was quiet, except for the sounds of the ticking of a clock and the rustling of some papers the receptionist was fiddling with.

Dean jiggled his leg nervously, picking at his nails. God, how he wished you could still smoke cigarettes in buildings. Cas reached over and placed his hands over Dean's, causing him to stop fidgeting. Cas looked into his eyes. "It'll be okay." Dean just nodded. He had to believe him, or he was just going to run out right then and there.

A tall, fair-skinned woman with red hair appeared from around the corner. She was wearing heels and a purple dress. "Dean?" she called, looking up from her clipboard.

Cas squeezed his hand quickly and Dean stood up, shooting Cas one last fearful glance before following the doctor around the corner.

The room was small, the walls painted a sky blue. It was carpeted, with a couch set back against one wall. She motioned for him to take a seat, and he obliged.

"So Dean, it's very nice to meet you," the doctor began, taking a seat in a rolling chair opposite Dean. She pulled over a rolling table with her laptop on it. "My name is Anna." She smiled at Dean, and he didn't respond, only smiled back half-heartedly. "So," she continued, "tell me a little bit about what's going on. What brought you here today?"

He opened his mouth and nothing came out. He realized he didn't know where to begin. Finally he stammered, "My- my friend. He said I needed help." He could feel his eyes stinging already, and he felt like a fool.

"And why is that? What's going on?"

He let out a small chuckle and shook his head. "I don't even know. I..." He swallowed. "I've always been a pretty heavy drinker, but about a year ago I started using heroin." He paused, looking down. "He helped me get through it, I haven't used in almost four months." He didn't lift his head.

"Well that's great, I'm glad to hear that. That's really hard, especially to go through without professional help. You should be proud of yourself." She smiled sympathetically. "So... why do you think you gravitate towards using drugs?"

He shrugged, feeling embarrassed. "I just have a lot of shit in my head that I don't want to think about anymore."

She nodded. "Do you think maybe you could tell me what those things are?"

He hesitated, scratching his nails across the jeans covering his knees. "I don't know..."

"Dean, I want you to know that I'm hear to help you." She paused, typing something into her laptop. "Does your family have any history of mental illness?"

He blinked. "Yeah." He paused. "My father."

"Do you know what his diagnoses are?" She didn't look up from the computer as she typed.

Dean slowly shook his head. "I just know... he's an alcoholic. He..." He trailed off, feeling a lump growing in his throat. _Just grow a pair and stop being such a pussy._

"Shut up," he grumbled, balling his hands into fists and covering his ears.

"Dean? Who are you talking to?" She looked up from her laptop in concern.

He could hear it already. The change in her voice. He was a mess, and she knew it. He was broken, and irreparable, and she knew it.

"I... It's..." _You won't tell her. Because you know deep down, no one can help you anyway. Might as well lock you up and throw away the key, before you completely lose it. "_ Fuck," he muttered. "It's a damn voice," he finally blurted out, talking over it. "It doesn't leave me alone."

She nodded. "What does it say?"

He was expecting a different reaction. Not an "I-see-this-every-day" reaction.

"Just... bad things. To me. Trying to make me feel bad. About myself." His breath hitched. "M- mostly things my father... has already said to me."

"Can you tell me a little bit about your relationship with your father?" She leaned back in her chair, looking at Dean.

He hesitated, digging his nails into his knees. "It's... not easy to talk about..."

"I understand. But it's important. It's not very easy to keep it inside, either, is it?"

She had a point, he had to give her that. "Well... my mom died when I was four, so it was just me, my little brother, and our dad." He paused, the words lying in wait on his tongue for him to just spit them out. He took a deep breath. "He was abusive." He felt his voice crack but it just poured out. "So bad. All the time. For no reason. He was crazy. He would come home drunk screaming about his coworkers, or the government, or his parents, who are long dead." He released the breath he didn't realize he had been holding in the entire time. "He would always be talking to himself. None of what he said really made any sense to me, but..." He shrugged. "I was young."

"And how long did this go on for?"

"My whole life," he said quietly. "Until I moved in with my friend, like... seven months ago I think."

"Do you ever picture yourself back in those situations, and feel the same feelings you did then? Does it feel like you are right back in that moment again?"

He closed his eyes and nodded slowly.

She nodded sympathetically. They talked for a while longer about some lighter things. She asked about his hobbies, and Sam, and who he lived with.

"My, uh... my best friend, Cas. He's the one who made me this appointment..." He trailed off. Should he tell her?

She smiled. "Well, it sounds like he really cares about your well-being. That's a great friend."

He nodded, feeling heat creeping up his neck onto his face. "Yeah. He is great."

She glanced up at the clock. "Dean, I am going to be honest here and tell you why I am concerned."

He felt his stomach twist and he flexed his fingers, which were beginning to hurt from digging into his knees.

"But first, I want you to know that mental illness it treatable," she began, "and treatment and management have come a long way since your father was your age." She paused. "I also want you to know it's often times genetic, other times brought on or exacerbated by trauma or other life circumstances."

He nodded slowly. The seconds seemed to stretch on forever as he waited for her to continue.

"I'm going to tell you what I think... It's a little early to make a complete diagnosis, but I do know this- You are most likely suffering from Major Depressive Disorder, and you definitely have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder." She pursed her lips.

"I- But... I thought... isn't that what happens to soldiers?" he stammered.

"It can happen to anyone, Dean. _Any_ traumatic event or events can cause PTSD."

He felt his face growing hot as his eyes started to water. He lifted his arm and wiped his face with his sleeve. " _God dammit_ ," he muttered.

"I'm going to write you some medication, okay?" she said softly. He nodded. "I have to stress this, though. Sometimes medications can make things worse before they get better. And sometimes they can increase suicidal thoughts or behaviors." She paused. "I need you to promise me if you are feeling like hurting yourself, you will reach out, okay? To me, to any emergency room. Do you understand?"

He nodded again.

"Okay. And it would be wise not to mix them with alcohol." She handed him a piece of computer paper and a small prescription paper. "I want to see you again in four weeks. I also would like you to see a therapist once a week. They'll make the appointments for you at the front desk." She smiled.

He nodded, taking the papers from her. "T-thank you..."

She walked him to the doorway and he exited, following the signs to the waiting room. Cas looked up in surprise, and Dean glanced at him quickly before hurrying past. Cas jumped up to follow him. When he caught up with him, just short of the door to the main entrance, he reached forward and touched his arm. "Hey."

Dean spun around, his eyes red and puffy. "Can you please make my next appointment," he whispered, biting his lip and pushing the papers into Cas' chest.

Cas nodded and Dean spun back around and hurried out the door.

He opened the car door and plopped into the driver's seat. Folding his arms over the steering wheel, he lowered his head into them and finally let go, beginning to sob. Even though nothing had really changed, everything had changed. He now had a diagnosis. There were others like him. There was treatment. It didn't change how he was feeling right now, but maybe it meant the future didn't have to be more of _this_.

He felt a shadow quickly pass over him, and he slowly lifted his head to see Cas climbing into the passenger seat. He put his hand on Dean's shoulder. "Hey. Are you okay?"

Dean sniffled and nodded.

"How did it go?" Cas asked hesitantly.

Dean shrugged. "It went." There was a long pause. "She said I have depression and PTSD." He felt his face, raw from wiping it with his sleeve, sting as new tears formed.

Cas had figured as much. But he didn't think Dean would believe it from him. He knew he had to hear it from a professional, and Cas couldn't write him medication anyway, and he desperately needed something to help him get himself back on track. "Do you want me to drive?"

"Yeah," Dean rasped. Cas got out of the car and Dean slid over to the passenger seat. Cas got back in and started the car as Dean leaned back into the corner and closed his eyes. As Cas drove, they were quiet. The radio was off, the windows were closed. His thoughts drifted back to what he had discussed at his appointment, and some of the memories it had dug up.

_"Dean?"_

_Dean turned his head to see his brother standing in the doorway of his bedroom, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Yeah?"_

_Sam walked in and climbed up onto the bed, sitting next to Dean and crossing his legs. He reached up and touched Dean's face. "Why does daddy hurt you?"_

_Dean winced under his touch, his cheek swollen and burning. He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe I'm a bad person."_

_Sadness spread over Sam's little three-year-old face, and it broke Dean's heart. "I don't think you are a bad person. You are the greatest person," he said._

_Dean smiled weakly. "Thanks, Sammy."_

_Sam leaned forward and hugged his big brother tightly._

"Dean?"

Dean's eyes opened slowly and he sat up, looking around. They were in Cas' driveway. He uncrossed his arms and stretched them out in front of him, not realizing how long he'd closed his eyes. This was why he hated talking about his father, because then the memories followed him around like a shadow for days.

He looked over at Cas, who was staring at him sadly. "Dinner?" he asked quietly.

Dean forced a smile and nodded. "Sounds good."


	22. Chapter 22

Cas fidgeted with his phone beneath the desk, flicking his eyes down to it every few seconds between pretending to stare at the chalkboard. It had been five hours since he had texted Dean at eight am, asking how he was feeling after yesterday, and if they could go to the pharmacy to get his new medication when Dean picked him up. Two hours since he'd sent _'hello?'_ School let out in twenty minutes, and he was getting a little worried that he hadn't heard anything back. A call during lunch rang until voicemail answered.

The final bell rang and he sprang through the halls, weaving through crowds of teenagers like a rabbit to hurry out front. Dean wasn't there. _Yet_ , he told himself, glancing at his watch. He was outside three minutes earlier than usual. He sat down against the base of a tree in the courtyard, squinting into the sun, for another fifteen minutes before huffing a sigh and rising to his feet. He began walking down the sidewalk, as the buses had just left. He raised his arm to wipe his brow, which was beading with sweat. It was supposed to hit over one hundred degrees today, which was unusual for this time of year, so he had forgone his dress shirt, slacks and trench coat, for jeans and a t-shirt. Now that he was walking, he was glad he did. He tugged on the bottom of his shirt, trying to let cool air in as he walked. The sun beat down on him and he felt his shirt becoming soaked.

He walked in the door at a quarter to four, drenched in sweat, irritated to see Dean's Impala in the driveway, but also hoping it meant he was okay. Maybe he had just slept all day. Slept through his phone.

As the cool air from the A/C chilled his skin, he closed the door behind him, noticing the TV was on. He walked over and saw Dean laid out on the couch on his back, an empty bottle of Jack in his hand, which was hanging off the couch and grazing the floor. He was staring at the TV, his eyes glassy.

Cas frowned. "Dean?"

Dean slowly blinked and craned his head back to look at Cas over the arm of the couch. "Sammy..." he started. "Go back to bed. You know he told you... to go to bed. You know he can't... catch you up after he... sent you to bed..." His tongue tripped over his words, and Cas could tell he wasn't really there, he wasn't in the present.

He waved his hand in front of his face, frowning in concern. "Dean, it's me, _Cas_."

He saw Dean's face twitch involuntarily as his hands passed over his face, but he still didn't seem to recognize where he was. Cas was worried he was having a flashback, but was too drunk to even react to it. If this was true, he needed to snap Dean out of it before it got worse.

"Sammy, go. To. Bed," he repeated, staring at nothing, his voice now a little angry.

"Dean," Cas said sharply.

Dean took a deep breath. "Dammit... _dammit_ Sammy I told you." He was quiet for a moment, and Cas just stared into his unfocused eyes. "He's coming." He paused again. "I'm trying... sir... I swear," he mumbled, his voice desperate. "He's just... a kid..." His body jerked and he blinked slowly, bringing one shaky hand up to his face and closing his eyes. "S-sorry... sir..."

Cas moved around to his side, bending over him and reaching down. He grabbed a hold of Dean's arms and shook him lightly. He couldn't watch him re-live this. "Dean, you're at Cas' house!"

Dean stiffened in his grip, grunting. "No!" He began thrashing, and Cas was taken aback at the amount of strength Dean had, considering the amount he had drank. Cas let go and stepped back, but Dean continued kicking and thrashing his arms and legs. It wasn't long before he tumbled off the couch, landing with a loud thud on his stomach on the floor. In his mind, his father was throwing him to the ground- again.

He watched as Dean stopped moving, and simply dragged his arms up in front of him and buried his face in them, his shoulders heaving as he began to cry.

Cas squatted next to him and reached out, before stopping himself. Where could he touch Dean that maybe he hadn't been hit? He searched Dean's backside for answers before settling on the nape of his neck. He gently placed two fingers there, and Dean only tensed under his touch. He then slowly dragged them up and began scratching the back of Dean's head. "Dean, it's Cas. Do you know where you are?"

He saw Dean's head slowly move in a nod. "Why don't we get you to bed?" he asked softly. "Let me help you up."

Dean slowly lifted his head as Cas gripped his arm, standing up and pulling Dean up with him. Dean put his left arm out to steady himself on the coffee table as he willed his legs to work. Cas helped him up the stairs and to the bed. He pulled the covers back and Dean fell back onto the bed. Cas leaned forward, unbuttoning his pants and sliding them down, before unbuttoning his flannel and helping Dean remove that as well. He pulled the blanket back up over Dean, who turned to look at Cas as he stood at the edge of the bed. His lips parted, and he whispered, "Please... come lay with me."

Cas' face fell and he swiftly dropped his clothes before killing the light, closing the curtains, and climbing underneath the blanket with Dean. Just enough early afternoon light peeked through the curtains, that they could barely make out each other. But Cas could see Dean turn to him, the light glinting off his watery eyes. "Thank you," he said shakily.

Cas just scooted closer, wrapping his arm around Dean's stomach and resting his head on his chest.

"Dean! Dean!"

Dean awoke to an eleven-year-old Sam shaking him. "Hmm?" he grunted, sitting half-way up. He was on his living room couch.

"Dad's here. You better get upstairs before he realizes you got into his liquor."

Fear rose up in Dean's throat, and he scrambled off the couch, falling to the floor. "God dammit," he grumbled, grabbing onto the couch and steadying himself. He heard his father's car door slam in the driveway and he shoved Sam. "Go!"

Sam didn't budge. "Dean, I'm not leaving you down here. Let's go." He grabbed the empty whiskey bottle off the floor with one hand, and grabbed Dean's arm with the other. Dean followed quickly, stumbling up the stairs behind Sam. Just as they rounded the corner, they heard the front door open. They both held their breath as they peered around the corner through the railing.

John slammed the door shut behind him, stopping and scanning the room. Even the house seemed to be holding it's breath before his father roared, "Dean!"

Sam looked over at his older brother, fear painted on his fifteen-year-old face. "Don't. Maybe he'll forget. Think you aren't home."

Dean could see in his face he didn't believe it. "Sammy," he whispered, "If I'm not here he'll wanna know why I wasn't watching you."

"Dean!" John yelled again.

Dean stiffened before beginning to push himself off the floor.

"No," Sam hissed.

"Dammit Sammy," Dean snapped in a hushed whisper. "The longer I wait the madder he'll be."

Sam didn't have a response to that. He only stared at his brother sadly.

"Now go pretend to be asleep. It's late."

Sam nodded and retreated to his room, giving Dean one last sad glance before quietly clicking his door closed.

Dean closed his eyes, mentally preparing himself, before standing up. "Yeah?" he called from the top of the stairs. He opened them again and began walking down, feeling his legs beginning to wobble.

"What took you so long, boy?" he snapped.

"Sorry sir... I was just... checking on Sammy," he lied. "Making sure he was in bed."

John stared at him hard for a moment, before taking a swig out of the bottle in his hand. "Did you make dinner?"

Dean nodded, hurrying past him into the kitchen. He grabbed a plate from the fridge and put it in the microwave.

"You make sure he did his homework?" John asked gruffly, taking a seat at the table. He took another gulp from the bottle before setting it down in front of him on the table.

"Yes," Dean replied, staring impatiently at the microwave.

"Good," John muttered. "That kid's bright." He paused. "He's goin' places, unlike you."

Dean continued to stare at the microwave, hoping for the x-rays to just melt his brain already.

John must've sensed the hurt coming off Dean. He fed off it like a scavenger on carrion. "Must be from my side," he continued, smirking. "You got your mother's genes," he chuckled. "Dumber than a doornail."

Dean felt his hands clenching into fists, his nails digging into his palms, but he still didn't turn from the microwave. Finally it beeped, and he yanked the door open and pulled out the plate. In his anger, frustration, and drunkenness, he didn't realize how hot it would be. It sent sparks of pain shooting up his fingers, and he dropped the plate, reflexively sticking his fingers into his mouth.

It hit the tile with a loud crash, and John spun around in his chair. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" He barked, reaching forward and smacking Dean hard on the back of the head. "Fuckin' retard," he huffed. "Now clean it up."

Dean scurried off to grab the broom, keeping his head down so John couldn't see the tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. He couldn't find paper towels, so he came back with an old newspaper, using it to scoop up the mashed potatoes, chicken, broccoli, and broken pieces of ceramic. He tossed it into the garbage can and gently swept the remaining pieces into the dustpan, being careful not to muck up the broom with food.

"Do you want something else?" He asked quietly. John just glared at him, as if Dean was too stupid for him to comprehend. "I'll make spaghetti then," he mumbled.

Thankfully John remained quiet, nursing his bottle, until the pasta was done. Dean set a bowl in front of him, a fork jammed into the center of the mass of noodles. "Enjoy," he muttered. _You're lucky I don't poison it, you dumb bastard_ , he thought.

John began eating without a word. When he judged that the food was not worthy of another verbal thrashing, he simply stated, "Go to bed."

Dean didn't need to be told twice. Being in the same room as John made his blood run cold. He shuffled towards the door and climbed the stairs. The walk from his doorway to his bed seemed like miles, and when he finally reached his bed, he flopped into it with a groan.

He awoke to John hovering over him, breathing what smelled like pure alcohol into Dean's face. As Dean's eyes opened, he jumped at this realization. John narrowed his eyes. "You been in my liquor cabinet, boy?"

Dean's eyes widened and he tried to prop himself up and lean back. "N- no sir."

John reached out and grabbed him by the arm. "Don't lie to me," he hissed. "Do you think I'm as stupid as you are?"

Dean violently shook his head. He hated these moments more than the actual beatings. The moments of praying he would get off easy, that John would just scream at him and that would be it, because he was too drunk to do much else; but that usually wasn't the case, and Dean knew that.

John wrenched him closer. "What did I tell you about touching my liquor," he growled.

"Y- you told me not to, sir," Dean stammered.

"So why the fuck did you do it?" he screamed, stepping to the side and flinging Dean to the floor. Dean hit hard, cracking his elbow on the wood floor beneath the carpet.

"I'm sorry," he yelled, trying to crawl away. What else could he say? Honestly, even saying sorry didn't do anything. He wasn't sure why he bothered even answering his father anymore once it got to this point. There was no turning back, no matter what Dean said. So why did he even try?

"Shirt off," he demanded.

Dean slowly reached backwards, wincing as his elbow moved, and pulled his shirt up over his head. He felt his heart jump into his throat as he heard the slide of the leather, indicating John was pulling his belt from his belt loops. He closed his eyes. All he could do was try to imagine himself as far away as possible.

"Do I have to do it harder because of how drunk you are?!" his father screamed, reeling back the belt. He whipped it across Dean's back once, and Dean cried out, scraping at the carpet with his fingernails. John brought his arm down again and it made contact with Dean's skin again.

"I'm sorry!" Dean screamed.

"Hey, hey, _Dean!_ Calm down, it's Cas!" He felt someone grabbing at his shoulder, and he jerked away involuntarily. "It's a nightmare, Dean, _wake_ _up!_ "

Dean shot straight up in bed, looking around wildly. He looked to his right, wide-eyed, to see Cas staring back at him the same way, his face contorted in fear and concern.

"...You okay?" he asked quietly, his eyes searching Dean's face for answers.

Dean shook his head, still dazed. He could still feel the burning on his skin and the carpet under his fingernails. He could still taste the whiskey on his breath.

He blinked slowly before lying back down. "Please hold me," he uttered, staring up at the ceiling.

Cas obliged, placing his arm around Dean's chest. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I- I don't know," Dean answered, exhaling. "I don't know if that makes it better, or worse."

"I understand," Cas said quietly, even though he didn't. Not at all. Not really. How could he?

"Just... please don't take your hand away. It helps me remember I'm here," Dean said, closing his eyes.

Cas laid his head down on Dean's chest and closed his eyes as well, drifting back off to sleep.


	23. Chapter 23

The days turned into weeks. Two, to be exact. Dean was fired from the record store, but Cas didn't care. He wanted Dean to focus on himself. They didn't need the money, anyway.

It was a gorgeous May Sunday, and Cas wanted to get Dean out of the house. All he done was lay in bed for the past week. He sat down next to him on the bed and gently shook his shoulder. "Dean, wake up."

Dean grunted sleepily.

"Come on Dean," he urged. "Let's go do something. It's beautiful outside."

Dean grunted again, but rolled over to face him. "Like what?" he asked groggily.

"Let's go hiking." He paused. "Well, not really _hiking_ hiking, but let's go up to that trail by the river."

Dean didn't respond at first. He glanced over to Cas, who was smiling at him in anticipation. The corner of his lip curled up into a smirk. "How can I say no to that face? Alright." He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "What time is it?" he asked, looking around and blinking slowly.

"Ten," Cas replied, standing up. He went over to his closet and kneeled down, rummaging through a bunch of things on the floor. He found what he was looking for, and turned around with a large backpack in his hands. "Get dressed. I'm going to pack some stuff."

Dean nodded. As Cas disappeared out the door, he stretched and yawned. Maybe a nice day out in nature would be what he needed. _He's probably going to leave your ass stranded out there because he doesn't know how to tell you he's tired of your shit._

He groaned. Why did this have to start the second he woke up? He threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, making his way over to the dresser they'd gotten for his clothes. He pulled out jeans and a t-shirt and got dressed before making his way downstairs.

Cas was in the pantry, throwing some water bottles, nuts, and other snacks into the bag.

"We should bring a camera," Dean said, appearing behind him in the doorway.

Cas jumped a little. "Jesus, you scared me," he chuckled, turning around to glance at Dean. "Yeah, remind me to make sure I grab mine before we leave," he said, turning his attention back to the bag. "You want breakfast before we go?"

"I'm good."

Cas glanced at him skeptically, but he let it go. He zipped up the bag and slung it over his shoulder. "Alright, you ready then?" Dean nodded and after Cas grabbed his camera, they locked up and headed out to the car.

The trail was deserted. It was a comfortable sixty-five degrees outside, and a slight breeze blew through the trees. It carried the smell of wildflowers through the air.

Cas slowed down a bit and Dean didn't notice. When he did, he turned around to see Cas snapping a picture of him. Dean stopped walking and held up his arm to block his face. "Hey, I meant bring it to take pictures of nature and stuff," he called.

Cas smiled, lowering the camera from his face. "Oh stop. You're very photogenic."

Dean rolled his eyes and waited as Cas caught up. As they walked, Cas craned his head backwards, looking for birds to photograph. After a while he gave up and let the camera hang around his neck. He reached out and grabbed Dean's hand, tangling their fingers together.

They walked in silence for a while, listening to the breeze rustling through the leaves of the trees, and the birds chirping.

"This is nice," Dean said eventually. "Thank you for getting me out here."

"Thank you for coming." Cas smiled, squeezing his hand.

They walked a little farther and came upon a large formation of rocks. Cas stopped. "Let's climb up there and smoke."

Dean raised an eyebrow at the rocks skeptically. "I don't think we can get up there."

"Yeah we can," Cas said, letting go of Dean's hand and walking towards the smallest one. "Come on."

Dean frowned nervously before following Cas. He was surprised to find, following the way Cas had gone, he had gotten up fairly easily. They sat down on the top of the rock and Dean exhaled deeply, closing his eyes.

Cas looked over at him. If he was being honest, Dean kind of looked like shit. He had bags under his eyes, and he hadn't shaved in a few days. But Cas could see underneath that, and Dean looked content, even if it was only for that moment. He was enjoying watching the breeze push his hair around when Dean opened his eyes and turned to look at Cas. He caught Cas staring and smiled- a real smile, not a forced one.

Cas smiled back before reaching into his bag for the weed. He rolled a fat joint and sparked it up, taking a large puff before passing it to Dean. They passed it back and forth until it was gone. Cas pulled out the camera. "Take a picture with me."

Dean blushed a little, but he couldn't say no. "Alright."

They both leaned in closer and Cas held the camera out in front of them, snapping a picture. He put the camera back down and pulled a water bottle out of his bag, cracking the cap open and taking a large swig.

"Ahh, fuck yeah," he said. "Water's the best."

Dean laughed as Cas handed him the bottle. "You're weird."

"You know you love it," Cas shot back. "And it's not weird, we are sixty percent water."

Dean slowly leaned forward, then back, turning to look at Cas. "How are we going to get down?"

Cas thought for a moment. "Carefully."

Dean laughed. " _You_ find the way, I barely got up here."

They managed to arrive on the ground in one piece, and continued walking. It was only two o'clock. Dean slowed down to light a cigarette when something orange caught his eye. He turned to the edge of the trail and bent down to inspect it. It was a salamander. He reached down and poked it, and it wriggled a few feet away.

He stood up and turned, wanting to show Cas. "Hey, come look-"

He didn't see Cas anywhere. He looked around frantically. The path was straight in either direction, there was no way he walked far enough already that Dean would no longer be able to see him. "Cas?" he called, but it came out a whisper.

 _I told you_ , the voice sang, laughing cruelly. _Told you, told you, told you._

He felt his heart rate accelerate and his palms began to sweat. He covered his ears with his hands, even though he knew it didn't work. _Told you..._ "Shut up!" he yelled.

"Dean?" He spun around, looking for the source of the voice. Cas appeared on the edge of the trail. "Dean, who are you talking to?"

Dean tried to focus on him, slowly bringing his hands away from his ears. "Cas," he said. "I thought you left me." _Yikes, because_ that _didn't sound needy and pathetic._

He covered his ears again and Cas rushed over, grabbing his forearms. "Dean, I didn't go anywhere. I was right down the hill by the riverbank."

Dean nodded, removing his hands again. They were shaking. His heart was still pounding, and his stomach felt like it was inside out.

Cas moved his hands up to hold Dean's wrists, looking into his eyes. "Hey, listen to me. I'm not going anywhere. Why would you think that?"

Dean hesitated. "He... he said you were going to leave me here. This morning."

Cas' face fell and he pulled Dean into a hug. "Dean, I'm so sorry. But I'm not going anywhere, okay? I promise."

"Okay," Dean replied.

They pulled apart. "Let's head back, okay?" Cas asked.

"Yeah," Dean agreed quietly, and they turned around to begin the walk back.

* * *

Another week had passed, and Cas was trying to convince Dean to go out with him again. Dean was fighting him this time.

"Come on Dean, it's the Douglas County fair. It'll be fun. We always go," he begged.

"Yeah, before we were, y'know..." Dean trailed off. "You know it's mostly rednecks." Why would he want to go submerse himself in a bunch of rednecks who would call him a fag?

"Dean, we live in Kansas," he sighed. "Everybody is mostly rednecks. Come on, we don't have to hold hands or anything. I just want to get out of the house and I want to spend time with you." He paused. "Please."

Dean frowned. Cas was literally begging him, and the fact that he tried to use a promise of lack of affection in public as a bargaining chip made Dean feel like an asshole. "Okay," he said finally.

Cas' face lit up. "Yes! Alright come on, get dressed."

It was hot, nearly eighty. They weaved through the crowd, Cas eating a funnel cake. "These are the best," he said, licking powdered sugar off his finger. "I would come to the fair just for one of these." They stopped and he swallowed, holding the plate out to Dean. "Have some."

"I'm good," Dean said distractedly.

"What's wrong?" Cas asked, looking around.

"I saw Derek," he muttered, looking around nervously.

"So?" Cas took another bite of funnel cake. "I doubt he's going to say anything, Dean. You kicked his ass last time." He laughed, covering his mouth because it was still full of food.

Dean didn't laugh. "He could say something to somebody else," he said, still looking off into the distance.

"Dean, stop it," Cas said flatly. "Who cares? Let's just have a good time." He paused for a moment, staring at the side of Dean's face. "Would you like to go look at the animals?"

Dean nodded and Cas shoved the last bite of funnel cake into his mouth before tossing the plate into a nearby trashcan. They headed off in the direction of the farm animals, following the smell.

Cas handed him the camera. "Take a picture of me with the cows!" he said.

Dean stepped back and held the camera up to his face. Cas neared the fence, holding his hand out. The cow eagerly licked his fingers, no doubt tasting the remnants of fried dough and powdered sugar. Dean snapped a picture. Cas leaned down and the cow began craning it's tongue through the bars to lick Cas' face. Cas reached up and scratched the bridge of it's nose. Dean snapped another picture before lowering the camera. "Okay, easy," he joked. "Sorry Bessie, but he's taken."

Cas laughed and turned from the cow, walking back over to Dean. He wanted to kiss him, but he knew how it would make Dean feel. He hadn't been making much more progress on that front lately, and Cas had told him he wouldn't push it at the fair. Not that he really ever pushed it anyway. The sun was starting to set and the lights of the ferris wheel on the other side of the fair were becoming glaring beacons. "Let's go on the ferris wheel," Cas said.

Dean nodded and followed Cas as he led the way back across the fair. They stood on line as the sun steadily sunk lower, painting the skyline a deep orange and purple.

Suddenly Dean whipped around, eyes searching the crowd.

"Dean? What's wrong?" Cas asked urgently.

"You..." He turned to look at Cas. "You didn't hear that?"

"Hear what? There are a lot of noises here," Cas replied.

"Someone... someone yelled _queer_ ," he mumbled under his breath.

Cas raised an eyebrow. "No... no one said that, Dean. Are you alright?"

Dean just closed his eyes and nodded.

"Do you want to go home?" Cas pressed.

"I'm fine," Dean snapped.

Cas didn't say anything else, shoving his hands in his pockets and turning to stare at the ferris wheel, which was coming to a stop to let the current passengers off.

By the time they reached the front of the line, it was glaringly obvious that Dean was _not_ fine. He was clenching and unclenching his fists, sweating, breathing rapidly.

Cas took his arm, tugging lightly. "Dean, let's go home."

"Yeah," Dean rasped. "Okay."

They rode in silence, Cas driving again. It was completely dark out now. He reached forward and turned on the radio.

 _every rose has it's thorn  
_ _just like every night has it's dawn_  
just like every cowboy sings a sad, sad song  
every rose has it's thorn

"I'm sorry, Cas," came Dean's voice from the other side of the car.

"Don't be sorry, Dean. It's okay," Cas said softly.

"No, it's not," he said, sounding irritated. "I don't know why you insist on putting up with this crap."

"Because it's not your fault!" he said, raising his voice a little and gripping the wheel a little tighter.

Dean was quiet for a moment, a bit taken aback by Cas' reaction. Then he spoke again. "So? You could have someone that's not broken." He paused. "...That can go to the fair without hallucinating and having a panic attack in front of everyone."

Cas shook his head. "I don't want anybody else. Now stop."

Dean shrugged, although it was a wasted gesture in the darkness, and turned to stare out the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs used:  
> [Poison - Every Rose Has Its Thorn (1988)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j2r2nDhTzO4)


	24. Chapter 24

Over the next week, things only got worse. As Cas did schoolwork at his desk, Dean would lay in bed, staring blankly at the walls. Cas could hear him muttering to himself angrily under his breath. He would twitch, occasionally reaching up to brush something off himself.

The day before Dean's second appointment with the psychiatrist, Cas approached him about it before he left for school. He sat down next to Dean, placing his hand on his shoulder. "Dean, what's been going on? Can you talk to me?"

Dean rolled over and buried his face in Cas' hip. "It's getting worse," he mumbled.

Cas reached down and placed his hand on his head. "The voice?"

"It's not just a voice anymore..." Dean trailed off. "Different ones... Sensations," he said, a shudder running through him. "I don't know what's real anymore," he said quietly.

Cas was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "You need to tell your doctor about this tomorrow. Are you feeling better at all on the medication?"

He could feel Dean shrugging.

"I'm going to stay home with you today."

"No," Dean said quickly. "You have finals coming up. Go to school."

"Dean..."

"Go," Dean repeated.

Cas stood up, letting his hand fall off of Dean's head. "Okay," he said quietly. "I'll be back at three, okay? I'll take the bus."

"Take the car," he suggested. He was ashamed to admit it, but he didn't even want to drive with these hallucinations.

Later in the day, it wasn't getting better. He was beginning to worry about what the doctor would say about the medications not working after four weeks. Was he a lost cause? His phone went off repeatedly with a few worried texts from Cas that he hadn't checked. Finally, he responded he'd been sleeping, got dressed, and dialed Crowley.

" _Squirrel?!_ " Crowley sounded happy to hear from him. "I thought you'd died."

"I feel like I did," he responded. "Can I come over?"

"See you shortly." He hung up.

Dean shoved his phone into his jacket pocket and stood up, letting out a long sigh. Just one more time, he told himself. He needed some silence today until his appointment tomorrow, when he could hopefully figure something out with the psychiatrist.

Crowley opened the door with a smile, something Dean wasn't used to. "Squirrel!" He took a step back, swinging the door open. "Come in, come in."

Dean brushed past him, raising an eyebrow. "What's going on, Crowley?"

Crowley closed the door and walked over to the table. He took a seat and placed his fingers to his chin, looking at Dean innocently. "What ever do you mean?"

"Why are you being so cheerful?" he asked flatly.

Crowley shrugged. "Just glad to see you're alive." He paused. "I really shouldn't be giving this to you, you know."

"You shouldn't be giving it to anybody," Dean snapped.

He scoffed. "Your little friend chewed me out last time he picked up his green," Crowley explained. "I would've kicked his ass for thinking I give a damn, if I didn't think his love for you was just _sooooo_ adorable." He fluttered his eyelashes mockingly.

"Shut the hell up, Crowley," Dean hissed. "Just give me my damn bag."

"Yeah, yeah," Crowley said, waving his hand dismissively, then turning it upside down and holding it in mid-air. "Give me the money."

Dean slammed a crumpled five dollar bill into Crowley's hand.

Crowley looked up at him, his face breaking into a wide grin. When Dean didn't laugh, his face fell. "You're serious."

"Yes. I only want a little." He paused. "This is a one time thing."

Crowley just stared at him like a deer in the headlights for a few seconds, before bursting into laughter. He held his stomach, buckling over in the chair, before straightening up and wiping a mock tear from his eye. "That's the funniest thing I've heard all year."

"Yeah, my life is just one long fucking comedy. Now give me the bag."

"Tsk, tsk, so bossy." He placed the bag on the table, sliding it across. Dean snatched it up, turning to leave. As he grabbed the door handle, he could hear Crowley sing, "See you again soooon!"

Dean slammed the door behind him and started walking back to the house. Once inside, he dug around his bag for the needles he hadn't used in... he tried to think back. Five months? He couldn't even remember. He found one and headed to the bathroom. He began mixing it with water. He could feel his heart beating harder as he swirled it around and it began to dissolve.

_You are such a fucking idiot. This is why you deserve this crap. You get away from it, and you go crawling right back._

"How else can I get you to stop?" he asked, pushing the plunger down. The last thing he heard, was _I will never stop_ , before he nodded out.

He awoke to banging on the bathroom door. "Dean!"

He opened his eyes, looking around. How long was he out for? He must've underestimated his tolerance. But at least he was alive.

"Dean!" He sat up and the door flung open, smacking him in the back. He must have been blocking it with the way he was laying.

Cas rushed in, and before he could even say anything, Dean was crying and apologizing. "I'm sorry, I just wanted it to stop, it wouldn't stop." _I will never stop._

He helped Dean back to the bedroom and as Dean laid down, Cas collapsed into his desk chair. Dean looked over at him and saw he was crying. "God dammit, Dean," he whispered.

"I..." He stopped himself. He wanted to say he was sorry, but he realized it was no use. How many times had he said it in the past eight months they had been together? How many more times was he going to have to say it before he stopped hurting Cas?

"Dean..." Cas started, but he didn't finish speaking either.

_You're never going to stop hurting him, because that's what Winchesters do. They hurt people._

They were quiet for what seemed like forever, until Dean stood up and walked out without a word. Cas followed him. "Where are you going?"

Dean didn't respond, opening the medicine cabinet. Then he closed it and went back into the bedroom, opening Cas' dresser drawers.

"What are you looking for?" Cas asked quietly, standing in the center of the room.

"Your pills," Dean responded.

"...What? Why?" Cas asked, his voice cracking.

"I'm going to take them all," Dean said calmly.

"Are you crazy? No!" Cas yelled. "Why?"

"Because I'm done, Cas." He turned away from the desk, letting his hands fall limply at his sides. "Why am I even here? To suffer?" He walked past Cas, who stood speechless, and started rummaging through the stuff on the floor of the closet. "And now I'm dragging you into it, hurting you..." He sat back on his knees, staring into the closet. "I can't. I'm done."

Cas walked towards him and stood next to the closet door. "Dean, stop," he said. "I want you here. Stop talking like this."

Dean stood up and spun around. " _You_ want me here? What about what I want? I'm telling you, I cant. Fucking. _Do_ this anymore!" he yelled.

"You're not thinking rationally," he said quickly. "Please, just-"

Dean lunged forward and grabbed Cas by the front of his trench coat, slamming him up against the wall. "Dammit Cas, can't you see that I'm fucking hurting you? That's all I'm fucking good for. I will _ruin_ you!" he yelled in his face.

Cas swallowed, shaking a little. "Dean, you're scaring me."

Dean glared at him for another second before his face softened, and he let go of his trench coat, his hands shaking as he took a step back. "I... Fuck. Fuck, I'm sorry." He started crying. "Shit, Cas, I'm so sorry." He turned away.

Cas started to lean forward and reach out towards him. "Dean, it's-"

Dean jerked his arm away. "Would you _stop_ saying it's okay?" he screamed. "It's not fucking okay! I just fucking hurt you!" He paused for a moment. "I _knew_ I would end up just like him, I fucking knew it." He started breathing heavily. "I knew it. I knew it," he repeated. When he brought his hands up to his ears, Cas knew Dean was beginning to hallucinate again.

"Dean, calm down," he said slowly.

"I can't," he said shakily. "I can't hurt you, Cas. I- I have to go."

"No!" Cas yelled out. "You aren't going anywhere Dean. You are going to sit right here until you calm down."

"No," Dean echoed him. "No."

"Dean I swear to god if you try to walk out that door I will have you admitted," Cas growled, staring him down.

Dean started backing towards the door, his hands still over his ears.

"Dean." He pulled out his cellphone.

"Don't you do it, Cas," he warned, his hands coming off his ears as he inched closer to the door.

"Try me."

Dean turned and ran and Cas bolted after him, chasing him down the hallway and down the stairs. He tackled him just before the front door, straddling his back, pinning Dean's arms beneath his legs.

"Let me go!" Dean struggled, lying on his stomach. "It's for your own good, dammit!"

"No, _this_ is for _your_ own good," Cas said, holding the phone up to his ear. In his other hand he had Dean's hair twisted between his fingers, holding his head down.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"Yeah, my friend is mentally ill and suicidal, can you please send someone over here? I need him admitted."

"Fuck you, Cas!" he spat, his face squished into the carpet. "Fuckyoufuckyoufuckyou." He flailed around, pissed off that he couldn't get up.

Cas closed his eyes, trying to listen to the dispatcher, telling himself Dean didn't mean it. He was going through so much shit, on top of adjusting to medication that apparently wasn't working, or at least not yet. He wasn't in his right mind.

"You might want to send police, he's violent and I don't think the EMT's are prepared to deal with that," Cas said on the phone.

"No! No cops!" Dean yelled. Cas ignored him, hanging up the phone.

"Dean, please, calm down," he pleaded. "If you fight these cops, you will be charged."

Dean finally stilled. "I don't fucking care," he muttered.

Cas sighed and remained on top of Dean. It was less than ten minutes before the cops arrived. They knocked on the door, and Cas yelled for them to come in.

"Sir, we would really rather not," came the call from the other side of the door.

Cas knew what they were concerned about. Ambush. "You're safe, but I can't come to the door. I'm holding him down," he called back.

The door creaked open and an officer popped his head in to assess the situation, before entering. Two more followed. Two of them kneeled down and one restrained Dean so Cas could get up, and the other officer cuffed him. Dean didn't fight or speak. He just glared at Cas. They then hauled him to his feet, leading him outside, where an ambulance was waiting.

"Can I come?" Cas asked the EMT.

"Are you immediate family?" the paramedic asked, leaning out of the back of the ambulance, her hand on the door handle.

"Y- I..." He hesitated, unsure of what to say. "He's my boyfriend." He then realized that was the first time he had said that. Eight months together, and it was the first time.

She pursed her lips. "I'm sorry, immediate family only." She paused, seemingly feeling bad about the look of defeat on Cas' face. She told him where they were taking him, but that Dean probably couldn't have any visitors during his first seventy-two hours.

Cas nodded. She closed the door, and as the ambulance pulled off, he felt a twinge of regret for calling, even though he knew he'd done the right thing.


	25. Chapter 25

The ambulance ride was long. Dean's head was spinning as he sat on the stretcher, his hands still cuffed behind his back. He could hear the paramedics talking to each other, but it just sounded like background noise.

_I told you, you would hurt him. I told you, you would turn out just like John. I told you all of this would happen. I TOLD YOU._

He closed his eyes and lowered his head, tears running down his cheeks as the reality of what had just happened set in. What had he done?

* * *

"Medicine time, hun. And then you have to go to your group. It's almost two."

Dean was lying on his side on the bed, staring at the wall. The nurse held a cup containing four different medications over his shoulder. He reached up with his other hand and took it, bending his neck to knock them back. She then gave him some water, which he guzzled down. The medicine gave him such horrible dry mouth.

"Sweetheart, you can have visitors tomorrow. Do you want to call someone?"

"I don't think anyone wants to come," he said quietly, lying his head back down to continue staring at the wall. He wouldn't blame Cas if he never wanted to see him again after what he'd done.

"Stop it hun. I think you're great," she said, scribbling something on his chart.

He had been admitted on Friday, and it was now Sunday. Arriving was horrible. He was poked and prodded and interrogated. They tried to stress him out to see what happened when they triggered him, tried to make him snap, and it worked. They got what they needed. Then, they took everything. His clothes, phone, shoelaces, and knife all sat in a locker in the office. He was shoved into a room, containing nothing but a bed and a small dresser. Across from him, there was another bed. Thankfully it was empty.

"Besides," she continued. "Someone's been calling for you."

He rolled over and sat up in bed. "What?"

"Yes. A boy." She paused. "Can't remember his name though..." She tapped her pen on the clipboard.

"Cas?" Dean asked hopefully.

"It was longer. Is that a nickname?"

Dean nodded. "It's Castiel."

"Yes, that was it!" she said, snapping her fingers. "Damn this old age."

Dean smiled. He liked her. She was funny. "So... what did he say?" Dean asked hesitantly.

"He wants to know when he can come visit you, of course." She smiled at the happiness this brought Dean. "Is he your boyfriend?" she asked.

Dean's face fell and he turned bright red. "Umm..." He tried to read her face, and it seemed to be genuine and caring. "Yes."

She smiled, not missing a beat. "That's nice. I bet you've missed him."

Dean let out a small sigh of relief. "Yes. I have."

She continued smiling. "So, next time he calls, should I tell him he can come tomorrow?"

Dean nodded. "Can... can you ask him to bring my brother?"

"Good. And yes." She set his chart down. "Now come on, it's time for group."

Dean groaned, but dragged himself out of bed to follow her.

* * *

Cas had spent the last three days pacing back and forth in his room, foregoing his schoolwork, anxiously awaiting day three. The receptionist at the hospital wouldn't tell him when he could see Dean, but he was banking on the EMT's word. Finally, when he called back on Sunday, they told him he could come in the following day during visiting hours, and that Dean had requested he bring his brother. He thanked them and immediately called Sam.

The next day, he drove the Impala to pick Sam up. As they drove to the hospital, Cas explained more about what had been going on and what had happened the day he had to have Dean admitted. Sam was thankful Cas had made the decision, even though he knew it must have been hard for him. He had offered to come over that night to hang out with Cas, but Cas had declined. Instead he drank just to get drunk, something he never did, alone in his room.

Once they arrived, they were searched for contraband and shown to a large room with a few tables. They sat down next to each other at the only table that didn't already have friends and family sitting at them, anxiously waiting for them to bring the patients in. Finally, one by one, they started shuffling in. Dean was the last one in, and his eyes lit up when he saw his boyfriend and his brother. He rushed over to the table. Cas stood up, and Dean threw his arms around him. "Fuck, I missed you," he whispered into his neck. They pulled apart and he turned to Sam, bending down to hug him too. "Hiya, Sammy." He then sat down across from them. "Thank you for coming," he said quietly.

"How are you feeling?" Cas asked.

Dean shrugged. "Alright."

"I'm glad you're here, Dean. I want to see you better," Sam said.

"I know..." Dean replied. "Me too."

"So... now that you've been under observation, have they changed anything around?" Cas asked. "Medications? ...Diagnoses?

Dean hesitated. "Yeah... they took me off the other two meds I was on, and I'm on four new ones." He frowned. "One is an anti-anxiety, the other is an anti-depressant, the other is an anti-psychotic..." He trailed off, closing his eyes. "I can't remember the other one."

"Are they helping?" Sam asked hopefully.

Dean shrugged again, opening his eyes. "A little. I'm having less physical and visual hallucinations." _I told you, I'm not going anywhere._ He tried to ignore him.

"What about your diagnoses?" Cas pressed. "I'm not trying to upset you-" he started, but Dean interrupted him.

"I know, you want to go home and do research." He smirked.

Cas smiled. They knew each other so well. "Yes."

Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he reopened them, he spoke. "They said... they said I have borderline personality disorder. And, um..." He trailed off, fidgeting with his fingers on the tabletop.

Cas reached across the table and put his hand on Dean's. Dean looked up to meet his gaze, and Cas was smiling. "It's okay."

"You're not going to want anything to do with me," he murmured, looking away, feeling his eyes starting to sting.

"Dean, you know that's not true."

Dean swallowed and looked back at Cas. "They said it's called schizoaffective disorder." He paused. "Basically..."

"Schizophrenia," Sam said slowly.

Dean nodded. "Yeah," he said softly, looking down.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Cas said, squeezing his hand. "But I promised I wasn't going anywhere, okay?"

Dean didn't respond.

"Look at me." Dean looked up to meet his gaze. It had only been four days, but he had missed those blue eyes. "Okay?" Cas repeated.

Dean nodded. "Okay," he choked out.

"Okay," Cas said again, pulling his hand away.

"So, what's it like in here?" Sam asked. He wanted to change the subject, but he was also becoming anxious. Schizophrenia is genetic, and if their father had passed it on to Dean, it was possible he could develop it as he got older, too.

Dean appreciated the subject change. He wiped his eyes with his palms. "Boring. Everything's related to _feelings_." He leaned back in his chair and rolled his eyes. "I get to do art though, so that's cool. But otherwise I have to go to groups and _talk_." He made a gagging noise. He looked around quickly before leaning forward and saying in a hushed tone, "At least I'm not the most fucked up one here, though."

Cas tried to hide a smile. He felt bad for the other patients that had it worse, but he was glad Dean was trying to be positive, in his own way. They talked for a little while longer before a nurse came in and announced visiting hours were over.

Dean frowned. "I have to go. It was great to see you two." He turned to Cas. "Will you come back?"

"Of course," Cas said, surprised at the question. "Want me to come back tomorrow?"

Dean nodded and stood up. "I'll see you guys later." He turned and left, trailing behind the other patients.

As Dean left the room, Sam turned to Cas. "Wow. Schizophrenia, huh?"

Cas frowned. "I had a feeling. Hallucinating isn't really a symptom of depression, or PTSD. Flashbacks and hallucinations are very different."

Sam sighed as they stood up. "He's got a lot of work to do."

"Yeah," Cas agreed sadly.

* * *

The next day, Cas left school early as visiting hours started at two. He was searched again before being allowed to enter.

When Dean came in, Cas stood up and they embraced, tighter and longer this time. "I miss you," Dean murmured into his ear.

"I miss you too," Cas said. They broke apart and sat down. "Do they have any idea when they will release you?"

"They're saying three days. I came in on Friday, so... I'll have been here a week."

"That's good. So they think you're doing better?" Cas asked hopefully.

He shrugged. "Yeah. But they want me to do some pretty intense outpatient stuff. Groups like twice a week. Therapist once a week. Psychiatrist once a week, too, at first."

Cas shrugged. "I think it will be good. Are you feeling any better today?"

"Kind of."

Cas smiled. "Good. It's a start, right?"

Dean smiled back weakly. "Right."

* * *

The last few days seemed to stretch on forever. Cas did as much research as he could, in-between catching up on schoolwork and studying for finals. On Thursday night, miles apart, they both laid awake in bed. Cas missed having Dean here with him. Sure, he had slept alone plenty of times before he and Dean had gotten together, but now that he knew the comfort and security of lying with Dean every night, he could barely sleep without him. He rolled over onto Dean's pillow, inhaling the scent. Tomorrow...

In the hospital bed, Dean tossed and turned. His new roommate was snoring loudly, and it made him ten times more thankful to be leaving tomorrow. Although, as much as this experience sucked, he felt like he'd learned a lot. But he was also scared, way more scared than he would admit. Ever since they had said that word, and described the symptoms, he realized it was what his father had. And that caused him to be even more terrified that he would end up like him. He had brought this up in therapy, but his therapist had told him no two people with the illness were alike, and that by being there, Dean was showing he wanted treatment, and he wanted to manage it. Dean didn't like that word- _manage_. It reminded him too much of the fact that there was no cure. He had also asked why, after being abused his entire life, he didn't start having panic attacks and flashbacks until recently. His psychiatrist had said she wasn't sure, but it might have had something to do with his brain stuffing it all down so that Dean could survive- until it had been over. Once he was safe, that's when it all came back to be "processed".

He didn't really understand it, but he figured that's why he wasn't a psychiatrist.

Cas flew up to the hospital in the Impala, arriving thirty minutes early. He anxiously smoked cigarettes in the parking lot until his watch said five of. He snuffed the cigarette out under his boot and hurried inside. Sitting down in the waiting room, he jiggled his leg in anticipation. Finally, the nurse looked over at the door and buzzed it open. Dean stepped out and grinned when he saw Cas. He was wearing what he had been wearing last Friday, with the exception of still wearing the hospital pants. He rushed over and Cas opened his arms for a hug, but Dean grabbed his face and planted a kiss right on his lips. Cas' eyes widened, but he kissed him back, settling his hands on his sides.

The receptionist cleared her throat and Dean pulled back, staring into Cas' eyes. "Hold on." He walked over to the desk and filled out some release papers she had for him to sign. Once he was finished with that, she handed him a manila folder with information about his stay, phone numbers, upcoming appointments, etc. He thanked her and turned to Cas with a grin. "Let's go!"

Cas didn't need to be told twice, following closely behind him. As they walked up to the car, Dean walked around front and slid his hand across her hood. "Did you miss me, baby?"

Cas rolled his eyes, laughing.

Dean looked up at him and smiled. "Can I drive?"

"It's your car." He tossed him the keys and climbed into the passenger seat.

Dean sat in the drivers seat, running his fingers along the wheel. It had probably been two weeks since he actually drove baby himself, and boy did he miss it. He turned the key in the ignition and turned to Cas. "First things first." He slid over, pinning Cas to the door, grinning mischievously. Cas grinned back, and they both leaned in, lips crashing together. Cas opened his mouth and Dean roughly jammed his tongue in. Their tongues tangled for a minute before Dean pulled back. "Jesus christ, I missed you," he breathed.

Cas swallowed. "I missed you too," he said, a little out of breath as well.

"Now, second thing. Do you have a cigarette?"

Cas pulled a pack out of his trench coat. "I got it for you, figured you'd want some fresh ones. I smoked your other pack because it was going to go stale."

Dean ripped the cellophane open and pulled out a cigarette, pulling the car lighter out and lighting it. He took a long drag, before tilting his head back and exhaling slowly. " _Ahhhhh_. Sweet, sweet nicotine." He reached down and turned on the radio. AC/DC was playing, and he began backing out of the parking spot.

_Had to cool me down to take another round_   
_Now I'm back in the ring to take another swing_   
_Cause the walls were shaking the earth was quaking_

"You ready to go home?" Cas asked excitedly.

_My mind was aching_   
_And we were making it_   
_And you shook me all night long_

"Fuck yeah," Dean said, as he threw the car in drive and peeled off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs used:  
> [AC/DC - You Shook Me All Night Long (1980)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lo2qQmj0_h4)


	26. Chapter 26

Dean flew down the highway, enjoying the fresh air in his nostrils and the wind blowing through his hair. After a few cigarettes, he rolled the window half-way back up, running his fingers through his hair. "I need a haircut."

"I kinda like it," Cas said.

"Thanks," Dean replied.

"Did you just... take a compliment?" Cas said, laughing in disbelief.

Dean thought for a moment. "I guess I did." He flashed a toothy grin at Cas, who laughed again.

They pulled into Cas' driveway and headed inside. "Where are your jeans?" Cas asked as he closed and locked the door behind them.

"The car."

"No, I mean, why aren't you wearing them? You're wearing the rest of your clothes." He closed the gap between them, snaking his arms around Dean's waist.

Dean's face grew red. "Uhh... honestly?" He paused, then sighed. "All four of my meds have a side effect of weight gain." He frowned. The two he had been on for the past month before his hospitalization had the same effect as well. "They were getting kinda tight anyway, so... they don't exactly fit anymore." He shrugged, trying to play it off like he didn't care.

Cas leaned his head into his chest. "I will get you new ones."

Dean placed his hand on the back of Cas' head and rested his chin in his hair. "Thank you."

Cas lifted his head up to kiss him. Dean kissed him back, and Cas pulled his hands around Dean's waist, gravitating for the front of his pants.

"Wait."

Cas stopped.

Dean sighed. "I want to, so bad, but... can we just smoke and talk first?" He bit his lip.

Cas smiled, letting his hands fall. "Of course."

Since Dean had spent the last seven days on lockdown, he wanted some fresh air, so they decided to walk down the trail. They stopped at the mall first, and Dean refused to walk around in hospital pants, so Cas ran in alone to grab him some pairs of jeans.

It was beautiful out, a cool sixty degrees with a slight breeze and just enough clouds in the sky. They arrived at the clearing and laid down in the grass, watching the clouds go by, passing their second joint back and forth.

"I am sooo stoned," Dean said.

Cas laughed. "Yeah, that'll happen when you don't smoke for a week." He paused. "So what did you want to talk about?"

Dean took a deep breath. "Everything. I mainly want to apologize for last week, and thank you for being so... level-headed." He turned his head to look at Cas, who turned his to look back. Dean frowned, looking into his eyes. "I never want to hurt you."

"I know," Cas said. "I forgive you."

Dean looked up at the sky again. "I also want to apologize for relapsing, after everything you did for me."

"I forgive you," Cas repeated, smiling slightly.

"And..." He swallowed nervously. "I want to apologize for- for not treating you the way I should... in public."

Cas hesitated. That one caught him off guard. "It's okay," he said quietly, returning his gaze skyward.

Dean rolled over and placed his hand on Cas' cheek. "No, it's not." Cas turned back to him and Dean ran his thumb over Cas' cheekbone. "And it's gonna change, I promise. Okay?"

Cas smiled, staring into the green eyes he missed so much. He noticed how much greener they were when they weren't clouded by inebriation. He leaned in to kiss Dean, placing his hand on his side. Dean kissed him back, bringing his fingers up to the side of Cas' neck. They made out for a few minutes before Dean pulled back.

"I still don't know what I did to deserve you," Dean said softly, brushing a bit of hair out of Cas' eyes and staring into them.

Cas just smiled and said, "I wonder the same thing."

Dean frowned. "I still don't get why you think I'm so great."

Cas stopped smiling. "If you could see yourself through my eyes, you would understand."

Dean was quiet for a moment, before leaning in to kiss Cas again.

"Let's go home," Cas said once Dean pulled back, his voice low and gravelly.

"Yeah," Dean said, pushing himself up off the ground. He extended a hand to Cas and helped him up, and they began walking back down the trail to the car.

Back in Cas' bedroom, Cas turned on the radio and they took a few hits from the bong. Cas took a particularly large one, placed the bong on the desk, and climbed on top of Dean, who was laying on the bed. He leaned down and kissed him, blowing the smoke into his mouth. He pulled back and grinned as Dean began coughing. Once he caught his breath, they began kissing again. Cas didn't waste any time, reaching down to undo Dean's jeans. Dean moved his hands from the side of Cas' face to his chest, yanking off his trench coat. They went back and forth for a minute, removing each other's many articles of clothing.

"Why do we wear so many fucking layers?" Dean muttered into Cas' mouth.

Cas pulled back, unbuttoning his dress shirt, the last article they were wearing besides boxers. "Fuck if I know." He threw the shirt to the floor and pulled Dean's boxers down, excited to see he was already fully erect. "Oh, how I missed you," he murmured.

Dean laughed, propping himself up on his elbows to look at Cas. "Me or my dick?"

"Both," Cas said, taking Dean in his hand and tugging lightly.

Dean let his head fall back, groaning. "Fuuuuck."

"So, tell me," Cas said conversationally, "have you not came at all since the last time? Or were you jacking it in the hospital?" He grinned.

Dean laughed, lifting his head. "Is that you trying to talk dirty?"

Cas shrugged, looking down at Dean's cock. He stopped his hand near the head, rubbing his thumb across the tip and looking up at Dean, a smile creeping across his face.

Dean shuddered, closing his eyes. "Y- yes. I did."

Cas grinned wider. "You're such a bad boy. Didn't you have a roommate?"

"Only the last two days..." Dean trailed off, letting out a small moan. "But he was fast asleep snoring. Fucker kept me up."

Cas laughed, picking up his speed. "So you _did_ jack off with him in the room?" He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "Just couldn't wait, huh?"

"No," Dean grunted through clenched teeth. It was so hot hearing Cas talk like this.

Cas leaned forward, still stroking his dick. "What were you thinking of that was so important?" he whispered in his ear.

"Fuck," Dean gasped as Cas' breath hit his ear, his face turning red. "You in that lingerie you wore on Halloween."

Cas leaned back, smiling mischievously. "You flatter me." He scooted backwards and leaned down, darting his tongue out to lap up the precome that was dribbling out of Dean.

Dean's hips twitched at the sensation. "Jesus christ, Cas," he breathed.

Cas wrapped his lips around the head, suckling lightly as his fingers massaged the base. Dean squirmed beneath him. Once he took all of Dean in his mouth, bobbing his head up and down rapidly, it wasn't long before Dean came into his mouth, gasping and twisting his fingers up in the blanket.

Cas pulled back and looked at Dean, licking his lips as he made eye contact. "Can you go again?" he asked eagerly.

Dean sighed contently and nodded. "Yeah, after a cigarette."

Cas' shoulders slumped, but he jumped off the bed and grabbed his pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his trench coat, which was lying on the floor. He sat down next to Dean on the bed, legs crossed, puffing on his cigarette. Dean took slow drags, his eyes closed, reveling in his post-orgasm euphoria.

Cas hurriedly snuffed out his cigarette. "Come on," he said excitedly.

Dean reached over and snuffed his out as well before turning to Cas, leaning forward. He placed his fingers over his collarbone and leaned in, kissing him softly. Cas kissed him back eagerly, opening his mouth, and Dean quickly darted his tongue inside.

Dean leaned forward more, pushing Cas onto his back and climbing on top of him. He ran his hands down his torso, sticking his fingers underneath the waistband of his boxers and pulling them off. He then leaned forward and began nibbling on Cas' neck. He lingered longer on the last one, hoping to leave a mark, before moving down Cas' chest to his stomach, trailing kisses as he went. "Oh, Dean," Cas sighed.

Dean stopped at his navel and leaned back, taking his dick in his hand and tugging slowly. In all this time, he still hadn't taken Cas in his mouth. He was nervous, but he wanted to show Cas he appreciated everything he'd done for him in the past year, and he wanted to get past this apprehensiveness. He'd been with Cas for nearly a year- it was time to accept the fact he was in love with someone with a dick and just go with it.

He bent down and opened his mouth, flattening his tongue and running it along the underside of the shaft. Cas jerked and looked down. "Holy shit, Dean," he breathed. "I didn't... I didn't think you'd ever do this."

Dean didn't respond, he only swirled his tongue around the head a few times. He could taste the saltiness of Cas' precome, which he had been afraid would bother him, but it didn't. He raised his eyes to see Cas staring at the ceiling, his mouth open slightly. He lifted his head. "You okay?"

Cas jerked, turning to look at Dean, his eyes wide. "Yes. Very okay." He smiled nervously. "Your mouth is like heaven."

Dean smirked and lowered his head again, wrapping his lips around Cas' head and descending down as far as he could. Cas bucked his hips, groaning, causing Dean to gag when he hit the back of his throat. "Shit, I'm sorry-" Cas started.

Dean didn't respond, only continued. Cas let his head fall back again, his hips shuddering under Dean's touch. When Dean came up, slowly, dragging his teeth ever so slightly, Cas couldn't hold back anymore. "Dean, I'm gonna-" he started, trying to be polite and warn Dean, but before he could, his eyes slammed shut and he grunted through gritted teeth, coming hard into Dean's mouth.

As Dean leaned back, wiping his mouth on his arm, Cas re-opened his eyes to look at him. He let out a loud sigh. "Holy shit, Dean," he panted. "That was fucking amazing."

Dean smiled shyly and crawled up next to him. He leaned down and whispered in his ear, "Can I fuck you?"

Cas nodded dumbly.

Dean pulled back and scrambled off the bed to grab the lube from the desk drawer. He squeezed some onto his palm before lying down on top of Cas, kissing him again. Since his fingers were already coated with lube, he didn't waste any time inserting them. Cas wrapped his arms around Dean's shoulders, shuddering and sighing. Dean moved his fingers around slowly, randomly, before stroking his index finger up towards Cas' stomach. Cas whined, twitching and squirming beneath him. Dean let out a small laugh, grinning at the way Cas was coming undone beneath him. He removed his fingers and quickly stroked his dick, coating it lightly with lube. He then grabbed Cas' ass cheek, lining himself up and pushing himself in with a small grunt.

Cas reached out and grabbed the blanket, collecting as much as he could in his fists as Dean placed his hands on the bed on either side of him and began thrusting. "Oh, God..." he murmured, closing his eyes tightly. "Dean... _harder_ ," he panted.

Dean was happy to oblige with his bottom's request. He leaned back, reached down, and hooked his arms behind Cas' knees, lifting his legs up and thrusting harder. Cas moved his hips in rhythm with Dean's thrusting, seeing stars as Dean's cock rammed against his prostate.

"Fuck, Cas, you feel so good," Dean muttered through gritted teeth. "God..." He could feel the pressure building and it felt like his dick had a fucking heartbeat. He wanted to stop, to hold back and prolong this, but he couldn't. He dug his fingernails into Cas' thighs, thrusting harder until his cock began twitching and he came harder than he ever had before. Cas cried out, coming at the same time onto his stomach and chest.

Dean stopped moving, slowly lowering Cas' legs as they both shook slightly. As his dick stopped twitching and began to ache, he slowly slid out and collapsed onto his stomach beside Cas, letting out a long sigh. "Holy shit," he squeaked.

"Yeah," Cas breathed. "That was..." He blinked and shook his head. "I don't even know."

Dean lifted his head and noticed a towel draped over the bedpost behind Cas. He reached up and grabbed it, carefully wiping off Cas' chest. Cas closed his eyes and sighed contently. Dean tossed the towel on the floor and turned back to Cas. Cas opened his eyes and they stared at each other for a moment.

Dean couldn't help but think about how much different things were than not only a month ago, but a year ago. He was so thankful to have Cas, so happy Cas had told him how he felt that day, so grateful for everything he had done for him.

Cas stared back at him. "What?" he asked, smiling slightly.

Dean swallowed nervously. The words were on the tip of his tongue, and he wanted to say them so bad. He was one second from chickening out, but looking into Cas' big blue eyes, he just couldn't. He inhaled deeply. "I love you," he said softly.

He had never seen Cas smile so big in his life. He rolled over and threw his arm around him, pulling him closer and kissing him deeply. He then pulled back, only slightly, and whispered, "I love you too, Dean," before nuzzling his face into Dean's chest.


	27. Chapter 27

"Cas, wake up! Wake up!" Dean yelled excitedly, jumping onto the bed next to Cas and shaking his shoulder.

Cas awoke with a start, sitting up and swinging his head around. "Huh? What's going on?" he asked groggily.

"It's graduation!" Dean said in a sing-song voice. "Get up and shower, I'm making breakfast."

Cas squinted, half-asleep and confused. "You... made breakfast?"

Dean nodded, grinning from ear to ear. "Now come on, get ready." He backed off the bed and exited the room, heading back downstairs.

Cas stretched his arms above his head, groaning. He couldn't believe graduation was here already. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, standing up and stretching again, wincing as pain radiated from between his shoulder blades. He reminded himself to take his medicine with breakfast. When he was already in a decent amount of pain in the morning, it usually only got worse as the day went on.

He creeped up behind Dean, who was cooking at the stove, snaking his arms around his waist and kissing the back of his neck. Dean turned red, turning his head slightly to quickly peck him on the lips. "Your parents are here," he said quietly.

Cas smiled. "Sorry. Where are they?"

"Packing for their trip tonight. I swear, they're hardly ever here."

"I know," Cas mumbled into Dean's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Dean said, pushing the eggs around in the pan.

Cas shrugged and stepped back from Dean, sitting down at the table. Dean finished cooking and turned around, placing a plate of bacon, eggs, pancakes, and toast in front of Cas.

Cas looked down at it with wide eyes. "This looks delicious, Dean." He looked up. "But I don't think I can eat all this."

"You'd be surprised when it's all on your plate." He sat down across from him with a cup of coffee and waved his hand at his plate. "Eat."

Cas picked up the fork and took a bite of eggs. "It's really good, Dean, thank you," he said, chewing.

Dean nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. "Don't forget, I had to cook for Sammy. I know a thing or two." He shot Cas a small grin.

Cas smiled. "I know."

They were quiet for a few minutes, Cas chewing carefully and Dean sipping his coffee, staring off into the rest of the kitchen. "So," he turned to Cas. "You excited?"

Cas nodded quickly. "Very. I can't wait to get the hell out of this town," he sighed.

Dean frowned a little. "Yeah. We haven't really talked about that."

Cas raised an eyebrow, swallowing the food he was chewing. "What is there to talk about?"

Dean leaned back in his chair, draping one arm over the back of it. He dragged his finger around the top of his coffee mug, staring down at it and shrugging his shoulders. "It's just... It's half-way across the country." He raised his eyes to Cas.

Cas squinted. "You're... not coming with me?"

Dean sighed. "I want to." He paused. "If _you_ want me to. But... I'm also scared to leave Sammy." He pursed his lips.

Cas nodded, looking down at his plate and pushing some of the food around with his fork. "I understand, but..." He looked back up. "I think he will be alright Dean. He's sixteen now, and he's not living with your dad anymore." He paused. "And of course I want you to come."

"I'm not allowed to live in a dorm unless I go to school though, right?" he asked quietly.

"My parents said they'd pay for an apartment, as long as I'm going to school."

"That's for you," Dean said.

Cas sighed. "Dean, if I already have a place, what's the difference if you live there too?" He paused. "It's not like we need two bedrooms." He flashed Dean a grin and winked.

Dean laughed a little and shook his head.

"Besides," Cas said, turning his attention back to his food. "Do you really think my parents don't expect you to come with me?"

Dean shrugged. "I'll talk to Sammy. But yeah, I would like to go. I hate it here." He frowned again.

"I know," Cas said, loading some food onto his fork. "I've heard California is very different." He chewed his bite slowly, looking at Dean.

"Yeah..." Dean said absentmindedly.

"I'm full." Cas put his fork down and slid the plate, half-finished, towards the center of the table. "I can't eat anymore. Thank you for cooking for me; it was amazing." He paused. "But you can have the rest."

Dean hesitated, before sliding the plate towards him and picking at the eggs. They were quiet for a minute, Dean chewing slowly and Cas checking his phone. "You know..." Dean started, and Cas looked up from his phone. "I'm proud of you for graduating with such good grades still... y'know, with all the shit I put you through all year."

A small smile appeared on Cas' face. "Thank you, Dean."

* * *

Dean opened his arms as Cas walked into them. He patted him on the back and they pulled apart.

"Congratulations!" Jess said excitedly.

Sam, who was standing next to her, his arm around her shoulder, beamed. "All honors, man. You should be proud," he said.

Cas shrugged, blushing slightly. "Thank you guys."

"So Dean said you guys are going to California?" Jess asked, as other graduates and their parents walked past in all directions.

Cas nodded, then smiled. "Since Sam is a big boy now."

Sam smiled, turning to look at Dean. They had already talked, while seated in the audience during the ceremony, and he had encouraged Dean to go. "Yeah," he sighed. "It's time for Dean to go live his own life."

"I'm right here, Sam," Dean huffed, rolling his eyes.

Sam looked right at him and made a face. "Go live your own life," he repeated.

Dean cracked a grin, punching him in the shoulder. "Oh, I will. But I'm gonna come back and visit. It's only a day's drive."

Sam rolled his eyes. "No, it's nearly thirty hours. Or, you could, y'know, fly. And be here in four hours."

"No way," Dean said, swiping his hand out in front of him, before pointing his thumb at himself. "Dean doesn't fly."

They laughed and Sam and Jess excused themselves to visit another friend of theirs who had graduated.

Dean turned to Cas, beaming. "I'm proud of you. My man's smart as fuck."

Cas laughed. "Stop," he said, taking off his graduation cap. "Can we go though? I feel stupid in this gown."

"You look adorable. Smart is sexy." As Cas blushed, Dean looked around quickly at the few families straggling behind where they were standing. There weren't many left by the bleachers, where the ceremony had taken place. He grabbed Cas' hand, tugging him as he started walking. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" Cas asked, allowing Dean to pull him back over to where the stage was. "We parked over there."

Dean didn't respond, only led him under the bleachers, behind where they butted up against the back of the little building they sold snacks out of, which was already closed. Dean peered around quickly before roughly pushing him up against the wall of the building, pressing his lips against Cas'.

"Mmm," Cas murmured in surprise, before melting into Dean, wrapping his arms around his neck. Dean ran his hands over Cas' waist, kissing him hungrily before pulling back.

"How the hell do I get in this damn gown?" he said, frustrated.

"What?" Cas looked around quickly. "What if someone sees?"

"Let them see," he huffed, leaning on the wall behind Cas. "We're leaving anyway." He leaned in and kissed him again.

Cas was shocked to hear Dean say this, but he wasn't going to argue. He was already growing hard and the thought of getting caught wasn't helping. "Umm... hold on," he said shakily, breaking his face away from Dean. He gathered the gown up in his hands, revealing his jeans and shirt, bunching the fabric up and tucking it under his arm.

"That's more like it," Dean growled, snaking his hand underneath Cas' tee shirt, rubbing his palm along his rib cage.

Cas let his head fall back with a sigh. Dean leaned forward and licked and kissed his exposed neck, favoring a certain spot right along his jugular. When he pulled back, a small pink blotch slowly appeared. He bit his lip, reaching down to unbuckle Cas' belt. When Cas didn't protest, he inched his jeans and boxers down just enough to reveal his erect dick. Taking it in his hand, he leaned in to kiss Cas again, tugging slowly.

Cas could feel the top of his dick pressing into Dean's stomach as Dean jacked him off, their bodies pressed together. "Dean," he mumbled into his mouth, a half-hearted protest he didn't follow through with.

Dean looked around before dropping to his knees and taking Cas into his mouth. He had to make this quick. He swirled his tongue around the head, licking up Cas' precome, before taking all of Cas in. Cas gasped, reaching down and tangling his fingers in Dean's hair. Dean moaned onto his dick, sending shivers through Cas. Dean sped up, pumping his hand at the same speed.

Cas tossed his head back, hitting it on the side of the building with a _crack_. But he didn't even notice; he was too enveloped in the pleasure Dean was giving him right now, his veins coursing with adrenaline at the thought that anyone could appear at any moment and catch them.

When Dean twisted his wrist in unison with a powerful downward motion of his mouth, Cas thrust his hips, pressure and heat building from his balls to his stomach. As he hit the back of Dean's throat, he felt his dick twitch before exploding onto Dean's tongue, biting his lip to try and stifle a moan.

Dean swallowed and rose up, shoving him back in his pants and re-doing his buckle as Cas leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. "Holy shit, Dean," he exhaled, rolling his eyes back in his head before settling them on Dean.

Dean grinned, licking his lip and looking into his eyes. His eyes wandered down to Cas' neck, where the spot had turned from pink to dark red. He leaned in to kiss him again, and Cas could taste himself on Dean's tongue. Dean brought his hands up and placed one on Cas' chest, the other on the side of his neck. They got lost in the moment, until...

"Dean?"

Dean pulled back, spinning around to look for the source of the voice. "L- Lisa?" Dean sputtered.

"Hey," she said quietly, looking to Cas to acknowledge him as well.

"Uhh.. What are..." He trailed off, unsure of what to say. He looked at Cas, who was still leaning against the wall, but looking down at the ground, for help. He lifted his gaze to meet Dean's and raised an eyebrow. Dean could tell he was going to let him take the lead on this one. It was _his_ ex, and whatever he wanted to tell her was his business.

"My mom left her bag on the bleachers, I was just coming over to see... if it was there," she said slowly, pointing upwards towards the bleachers.

"Uh, okay," he said, reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. "So, um.. how've you been?"

She shrugged. "Okay."

"That's good." He smiled weakly. "Congratulations on graduating."

"Thank you," she smiled, her eyes flicking to Cas, who was up against the wall, absentmindedly staring off in the other direction, squinting. There was an awkward silence before she said, "Listen, I'm sorry. That I interrupted or whatever. I was just... shocked... when I realized it was you."

Dean's mouth twisted into a half-frown, half-scowl, narrowing his eyes slightly. "I know... it's very _shocking_."

She frowned. "That's not what I meant, Dean. I just didn't expect... you..." She shook her head, putting her hands up. "Sorry. I'll stop talking."

Dean didn't respond, only shoved his hands into his pockets and looked down.

"I'm just gonna go..." she said, backing away, "...look for my mom's bag."

"Wait," Dean said, looking up. She stopped. He hesitated, shaking his head. "It's okay," he started. "I know it's a shocker. I just can't help getting defensive. Sorry." His cheeks flushed pink.

She smiled. "It's okay." It was quiet again for a moment before she said, "You look good."

He chuckled a bit, thinking of how much weight he'd gained since getting off heroin and starting medication. "Thanks," he said, looking down.

"I'm serious," she said. "You look... rested." She paused, bringing her fingers to her chin. "...And something else, I can't place." Dean looked up at her sideways.

"Happy?" came Cas' voice. They both looked over to see him pushing himself off the wall, his gown now off and bunched up under his arm. He came to a stop beside Dean and turned his head to him, smiling.

Lisa smiled widely. "Yes. That's it." She moved her eyes to Dean, who began to turn red as Cas took his hand. "Well it was good to see you two," she said, "but I really have to look for that bag." She waved and turned, walking away towards the end of the bleachers so she could get around to the front.

Cas turned to Dean. "Well that was awkward."

Dean nodded. "Tell me about it." He paused. "That was close. Do you think she saw?" He turned to look at Cas, who smiled and shook his head. Dean smiled back before kissing him quickly. He then looked around at the school grounds. "Alright, let's get the hell out of here, and never look back."

"Sounds like a plan," Cas agreed, and they headed off toward the car.


	28. Chapter 28

"Are you nervous?"

Dean leaned back on the couch, squeezing his knees. "Yeah... I've never left Kansas."

"When do Cas' classes start?"

"September... but we're going now, to... get settled and all that." He frowned. They were leaving the last week of July... next week.

"How do you feel about that?" Anna asked, crossing her legs.

Dean shrugged. "I just... don't want to leave my brother."

"I know. Don't you think he's happy for you, though?" she asked.

He hesitated. "Yeah... It's just... he's all I've got."

She smiled. "You have Cas."

He laughed nervously. He was glad he'd decided to tell her. "Yeah. I do."

She leaned back, uncrossing her legs and sliding her computer closer. "So, I'm going to write you an extra month of medication. Have you already set something up with another psychiatrist in your new area?"

He nodded. "Yeah, Cas did."

She finished typing and peered over him at the computer. "Make sure you go. If you miss it, who knows how long it will be before they can get you in again." She stood up, prompting Dean to do the same. "Well I guess we're finished," she said with a sigh, handing him the paper for the front desk. As they walked out the door, she stopped and turned to Dean. "You've made really good progress, Dean."

He smiled and she continued, "But I don't want to see you backslide." His face fell a little. "I know moving is stressful, it might even trigger some episodes, but I need you to make sure you take your medication every day and continue where we left off with your new doctor." She paused. "Okay?"

He nodded and said quietly, "Okay." He paused. "Thank you... for everything."

She smiled warmly. "You're very welcome, Dean. Good luck."

* * *

"Are you nervous?"

There was that question again. "That's an understatement," Dean responded.

"I think it'll be great," Sam said. "You'll have fun. There's nothing to do here." He rolled his eyes.

"I can think of one thing," Jess giggled, smacking him on the shoulder playfully.

" _Shhh._ " He turned to her, trying to stifle a laugh.

"Gross, guys, come on," Dean sighed, rolling his eyes as well. "Are you gonna hit that or just let it burn?"

"Sorry," Sam said, lifting the joint to his lips and inhaling before passing it to Jess.

They were leaving tomorrow, and Dean wasn't handling it very well. Everything was already packed into the trunk of the Impala, although it wasn't much. Cas' laptop, some clothes, blankets and pillows, the guitar... oh, and dishes. Cas' mom had given them lots and lots of dishes.

They passed the joint around as Led Zeppelin played in the background from Cas' phone.

"Jeez, why don't you two go easy on the liquor? Don't you have to drive tomorrow for the next thirty freakin' hours?" Sam said.

Dean just shrugged and Cas set his glass down. He didn't usually drink hard liquor, but he was feeling Dean's nervousness tonight.

"Are your parents here?" Sam said, looking around the living room.

Cas shook his head. "No... I was hoping they would be, but they had to work." He frowned. "They said goodbye yesterday."

"I'm sorry," Dean mumbled.

Cas just shrugged. "I'm used to it."

It started getting late, and Sam and Jess had to go somewhere in the morning with Jess' parents. "I guess we should head home," he said, standing up and stretching his arms above his head.

"Yeah," Dean said, frowning. He stood up as well and they hugged. "I'm gonna miss you, Sammy," he mumbled into his shoulder.

"I'm going to miss you, too, Dean. But you will have so much fun there."

He pulled back, leaving his hands on Sam's arms. "How do you know that?"

Sam smiled. "Trust me. You and Cas will be happy in San Francisco."

Dean smiled weakly and let his arms fall away to rest at his sides. "I trust you."

"Bye Dean," Jess said, giving him a hug before moving onto Cas and hugging him as well. "Bye, Cas. You boys drive safe and be good."

They left and Dean felt empty. He picked up the bottle from the coffee table, tipping it to his lips. Cas locked the door behind them and plopped back down on the couch next to Dean, resting his head on his shoulder. "You know, if you don't like it, you- _we_ , can always come back."

Dean stared off across the room. "Not while you're in school."

"I can transfer my credits."

"No, Cas," Dean said firmly. "It'll be fine. There's no way it could be as bad as here. I just... don't know anything different. California is a whole 'nother animal." He looked down at Cas.

"I know," Cas said, leaning up and giving him a kiss. "We'll be fine though, we've got each other."

Dean smiled weakly. "You're right."

* * *

Cas slowly opened his eyes, craning his neck to squint at the alarm clock. It was nine, and they'd wanted to be leaving by then. He rolled over and shook Dean's shoulder. "Dean, wake up."

Dean grunted and stirred. Cas was just thinking he'd fallen back asleep when he rolled onto his back and sat up, rubbing his face. He turned to Cas as if he was going to say something, and Cas just stared at him, waiting. He could be excited, a nervous wreck, or somewhere in-between.

"Let's do this," he mumbled sleepily.

Cas smiled and climbed out of bed. They had already packed up everything except the clothes they'd laid out. Cas grabbed them off the desk chair and got dressed as Dean groggily sucked on a cigarette.

Cas climbed onto the bed as Dean snuffed out his cigarette. "I'm excited," Cas said, his eyes bright and his mouth stretched into a large grin.

Dean smiled weakly. "Me, too."

Cas gave him a quick kiss and backed off the bed, sitting down at the desk and lighting a cigarette for himself as Dean got dressed.

.

"You know what's weird, I'm not even going to miss this place because of my family or whatever," Cas said, staring at the house through the windshield as they backed out of the driveway. "All of my brothers were grown when we moved here. It was just me and my parents, and they're always working." He paused. "I'm going to miss it for the time you and I spent practically growing up here. You were here more than they were."

Dean looked at him sadly. "I never realized how little your parents were around."

Cas shrugged. "It sucks, but at least they, y'know..."

"Care about you?" Dean finished.

"Yeah," Cas said quietly. The car fell silent and as they neared the edge of town, Cas said, "Let's stop at the diner and get breakfast."

Dean pulled off into the parking lot, and they exited the car and headed inside.

"Hey boys, what can I get you today?" the waitress asked, pen poised on her notepad.

"I'll just take a coffee... Black," Dean said, handing her his menu and flashing her a smile. He didn't need it even if he _was_ ordering food; they were regulars there. "Shortstack please," Cas said, handing her his as well. "And orange juice."

"You got it," she said, turning and walking off.

Dean leaned back, tapping his fingertips on the table. "So... we won't be back here for a while."

"Yeah," Cas agreed. "But I'm really excited."

Dean looked at him closely before smiling. "I am too, actually."

"I think we'll have a lot of fun... and meet people." He sighed. "We have no friends."

"What about Sam and Jess?" Dean asked.

"I'm not saying they aren't our friends, but they're literally the only two. Most people... have more friends than that."

"I guess you're right," Dean agreed, frowning slightly.

The waitress appeared with Cas' food and Dean's coffee, and they ate quickly before setting out.

.

As they merged onto the interstate, Cas pulled his iPod out of his trench coat pocket.

Dean raised an eyebrow at him. "How are we supposed to play that? This is a '67."

Cas smiled and propped himself up and turned around, reaching into the backseat and rummaging around in his backpack.

"Is that a cassette tape?" Dean asked, glancing at Cas' hands.

"Yep. It has an auxiliary cord," he replied, settling back in the front seat and popping the tape in.

"That's the coolest thing ever," Dean said.

"I figured we've got nine hundred miles to go until our hotel, with stations we don't know. And we're both pretty picky with our music," he added, scrolling through the songs.

"What? We aren't stopping anywhere?" Dean asked, glancing over at him again.

Cas looked up from his iPod. "Did you want to? I thought... you would want to just get there."

Dean shrugged. "I thought we would, y'know... road trip or whatever."

Cas was quiet for a moment. "Alright... I didn't plan anything though. I have no clue where to stop."

"Did you book any hotels?"

"No."

"So let's just wing it. We'll follow the general route and if we see something cool, we'll stop. If we're tired, we'll stop."

Cas was quiet again, thinking. "Yeah... that could work. I guess it doesn't really matter what day I pick up the keys to the apartment."

Dean took a deep breath. "Awesome."

"You excited?" Cas said, turning his attention back to the iPod.

Dean laughed, exhaling. "Yeah, actually."

* * *

"What time is it?" Dean asked.

"Three. We're just about to cross into Colorado. We should stop and buy some weed."

"How are we supposed to find any?" Dean asked. "We don't know anybody."

Cas laughed. "Weed is legal in Colorado."

" _What?_ "

"Dean, you didn't know this?"

"Ummm, _no!_ "

Cas laughed again. "It's legal in California, too. Let me look up a dispensary."

He could hear Dean breathing heavily in the drivers seat, gripping the wheel, jokingly acting _way_ too excited.

"Calm down," Cas laughed, but then his face fell. "Damn, you have to be twenty-one."

Dean let out a loud, exaggerated groan. "Dammit."

Cas shrugged. "I brought plenty, and I'm sure we won't have any problem finding any in Cali." He paused. "And you're twenty-one in January."

"You're right," Dean said, staring out at the road. "Hey, why don't you use that fancy phone to find us somewhere cool to stop?"

Cas nodded. After a few minutes, he said, "This seems to be the only thing around. It's another hour. It's called The Wonder Tower."

"What is it?"

"It was an old roadside attraction. I guess now it's just a ton of knick-knacks, but also a tower you can climb to see six states. It's only a dollar for admission."

"Sounds cool. Just tell me when it's coming up."

"It's exit 371, so we have a way to go." Cas shoved his phone back in his pocket, reaching into another one to pull out his Altoids tin. He opened it up and began rolling a joint on his lap.

They passed it back and forth as Cas flipped through the iPod before settling on Sublime.

.

As they pulled up, Dean ogled at a couple of old cars in the parking lot. When they came to a stop, he sighed, his hands falling from the wheel. "I think they're closed."

Cas squinted at the red building, its paint chipping and falling away. SEE 6 STATES was painted on the front. He pulled out his phone and was quiet for a moment, before sighing. "Yeah. The guy died in 2013." He paused, looking up at the building again. "Dammit."

Dean stared out the windshield for a moment before saying, "Let's at least look around. I wanna see all the cool stuff."

They climbed out of the car, the doors creaking as they closed behind them. Walking up to the building, they peered in the windows. Cas wasn't wrong about it being just a bunch of knick-knacks.

Backing away from the building, Dean craned his neck back to look up at the tower. "Are those...? ...I think they're fake."

Cas walked over to where Dean was standing, looking up as well. "Yeah. That's creepy though."

Dean looked at him. "We should go up there."

"How?" Cas raised an eyebrow.

Dean looked around. It was absolutely deserted. Nothing but fields. "We just..." He walked back up to the door, jiggling the handle. Quickly scanning the ground, he located a decent-sized rock amid the debris outside of the building. He looked around once more, before bringing it slamming down on the door handle, which fell to the ground with a loud crack. "...Do that."

Cas stared at him, eyes wide. "What the hell, Dean?"

"Come on, no one's around, and it's not like we're going to fuck with anything." He pushed the door open and peered inside, before slipping in.

"You kind of just did," Cas sighed, but he followed him into the building anyway.


	29. Chapter 29

Every square inch of the place was covered in junk, which in turn was covered in dust and cobwebs. Taxidermied animal heads, paintings, hats, antique tools- you name it, it was there. As they walked through, Cas noticed a few jars with preserved animals in them. "Cool," he said under his breath, bending down to get a closer look.

Dean came up behind him and peered over his shoulder. "What _is_ that?"

"I'm not sure," Cas replied, squinting into the murky liquid.

"Look at that."

Cas turned to where Dean was pointing to see the taxidermied head(s) of a two-headed cow. "Wow," he mumbled as he approached it, slowly reaching out to stroke the bridge of one of the noses. He turned to Dean, who was just standing there smiling. "What?"

Dean shook his head, still smiling. "Nothing, it's just kind of... cute, when you're so... into something." He toed at the floor, blushing slightly.

Cas smiled. "Thank you."

Dean shrugged, looking down. Cas began walking again and Dean followed behind.

"I think this is the entrance to the tower," Cas said. They had come upon a large door, which Cas was happy to find unlocked. He didn't want Dean breaking any more doors. As he pulled it open, they were met with a large winding staircase, more junk accumulated along the edges. They made their way up, being careful not to knock anything over.

"Ugh, those are really unsettling," Cas said as he came to a stop at the top of the stairs.

Dean arrived behind him shortly after, leaning over with his hands on his knees, huffing a bit. "Fuckin' creepy," he gasped, looking up, "is more like it."

They walked over to the windows, peering past the fake people made of clothing-covered straw.

"Nice view," Dean said once he'd caught his breath.

"Yeah," Cas agreed, turning to Dean.

Dean's lip curved up into a half-smile. "Glad we came in?"

"Yeah," Cas said, moving closer to him. "I, uh..." He reached up with both hands and ran his fingers over the front of Dean's jacket. "I liked watching you break in." He raised his eyes to look into Dean's.

Dean stepped forward and wrapped his arms around his waist, leaning in to kiss him. "Yeah?" he asked, pulling his head back. "Did you forget that I'm a total badass?" He smirked.

Cas laughed, kissing him again. "No, but it still turns me on every time."

"Oh really?" he said, stepping forward into Cas, who took an instinctive step back to keep his balance. Dean kept going a few steps farther, his hands still around his waist, until Cas was up against the wall. He reached down and palmed Cas' growing erection through his jeans.

Cas let out a little shocked noise into Dean's mouth. Dean broke their kiss, leaning forward to kiss his neck. When he pulled back slightly, he whispered into Cas' ear. "Let me fuck you right here."

Cas shuddered against Dean's breath. He loved when Dean was bossy like this. But... "Those... those things are creeping me out," he said quietly.

"Come on, they're all facing out the window." Dean paused. "Not that that matters, they're freakin' fake," he said, letting out a small chuckle.

Cas laughed. "You're right." He reached up and pulled a condom out of one of his many pockets. "It's going to be a while before we can shower," he said meekly, in response to Dean's confused look.

"Ah," Dean said with a nod. He brought his hands around to Cas' front, unbuckling his belt and yanking his pants and boxers down. He then grabbed Cas' shoulder and spun him around, pushing him up against the wall.

Cas gasped. He _loved_ when Dean went from bossy to rough. He heard Dean unzip his pants, fumble with the condom wrapper, and spit. He didn't turn from the position Dean had put him in, his face pressed up against the cold wall. He took a deep breath as Dean reached down and pushed two spit-slicked fingers inside of him. He twisted them around, scissoring them open and tugging on the rim. He then pulled them out and grabbed his dick, spitting down into his hand. He pressed his dick up against Cas and kissed along the back of his neck. Dean snaked his arms around his waist, grabbing a hold of Cas and jerking roughly as he swiftly pushed himself in. Cas inhaled sharply, letting out a small whine.

"Shh, you know you like it when I'm rough," Dean muttered into his ear.

Cas closed his eyes as Dean began thrusting. "I-" He gasped again. "I do."

"I know," Dean growled, thrusting harder. In all honesty, he wished Cas would be rough with _him_ , but he was never going to ask.

Cas squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his teeth and digging his nails into the wall. "Fuck," he grunted through gritted teeth.

"Tell me about it," Dean uttered. His hand fell away from Cas' dick to match the other, gripping Cas' waist, his fingers digging into him. "You feel _so_ fucking good."

"Tha... thank you," Cas panted.

Dean reached up and snaked his arm around Cas' neck, pulling him towards him and causing him to arch his back, his chest pressed up against the wall. He began thrusting harder, and Cas moaned as he hit his prostate repeatedly. He reached a shaking hand down to stroke himself.

"Ah, ah, ah," Dean said, grabbing his wrist with the arm that wasn't wrapped around his neck.

Cas whimpered in protest, which drove Dean crazy. He picked up the speed and when Cas turned his gaze to him, biting his lip, his blue eyes unfocused from pleasure, he fucking lost it. He tightened his arm around Cas' neck as he felt the pressure building in his groin. He finished with a few loud grunts, thrusting twice more. Cas finished at the same time with a loud cry, strangled from Dean's hold on him.

Dean pulled out slowly, hips twitching as he let his arm fall from Cas' neck. Cas inhaled deeply, turning over onto his back and sliding down to the floor as he attempted to pull his pants up. He looked up at Dean, who was pulling up his own pants and looking at Cas from beneath his brow.

Dean smirked as he fastened his button. "Good?"

The corner of Cas' mouth turned up in a smile. "Yes," he breathed. He let his head fall back against the wall, closing his eyes for a second. When he re-opened them, he turned his head to see the mess he'd made on the wall right next to his head. "Gross," he mumbled. He fumbled around his pockets, finding a packet of tissues and wiping it off. "Good thing this place is abandoned."

Dean snickered and held his hand out to help Cas up. Cas finished fastening his pants and buckling his belt before sitting back down and lighting a cigarette. Dean joined him on the floor.

They smoked in silence for a moment, the sunlight illuminating all the dust particles around them, before Dean said, "We should probably hit the road."

"Yes," Cas said, pushing himself off the ground and standing up. "But first, picture in front of the window."

Cas held up his phone and they took a photo in front of the window, trying to get a good view behind them. Satisfied with the few he took, Cas pocketed his phone and took Dean's hand. "Okay, come on."

* * *

"Get off here. Let's crash for the night."

"It's not even seven," Dean said.

Cas shrugged. "I know, but there's a hiking trail in Fort Collins I thought we could check out," he said, looking out the window as they merged off the interstate. "I figured we could get a motel here in Denver and get an early start tomorrow. It's an hour out and it's only like a two to three hour trail."

"Okay, sounds cool. So... should I just drive around until I see a motel?"

"I guess, yeah."

They found one with vacancy within twenty minutes. As Dean grabbed their bags out of the car, Cas went around the building to check in with the front desk. Dean leaned on the trunk of the Impala, smoking a cigarette and waiting for Cas.

Dean set their bags down on the floor as Cas flopped face-first onto the bed. "Oh my god," he groaned. "A bed."

"Your back hurt?" Dean asked, walking towards the bed.

Cas nodded. Dean sat next to him, placing his hands on his shoulders and squeezing.

Cas sighed. "Thank you," he mumbled into the pillow.

After a few minutes, Dean stopped rubbing and asked if he was hungry.

"Yeah, actually," Cas said, pushing himself up off the bed.

"Want to walk around and look for something?" Dean suggested.

Cas agreed and they headed out, walking down the street, turning their heads to read all the storefront's signs.

Dean grumbled as they passed a bunch of marijuana dispensaries. "Sucks we can't go in any of these," he muttered, his hands in his pockets.

"Yeah," Cas agreed.

"You guys looking for weed?"

They turned to see a guy who looked about their age standing behind them, smoking a cigarette. Dean looked him up and down. He was wearing a black skull cap, blonde hair poking out and framing his face, with a Pink Floyd shirt, ripped blue jeans, and tattered Vans.

"We have some, actually, we were just bitching about these places being twenty-one and up," Cas replied, jerking his thumb behind them towards one of the dispensaries.

The guy nodded. "How old are you two?"

"I'm nineteen and he's twenty," Cas said. "You?"

The guy pursed his lips. "Seventeen." He paused, pulling on his cigarette. "Where you guys from? You don't look like locals."

Dean raised an eyebrow, not sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Cas, having traveled with his parents occasionally, understood. "Kansas," he replied.

"What brings you over here, if not the killer herb?" he asked, smirking.

"California," Dean blurted out.

"He speaks!" the guy joked, shooting Dean a smile. Dean smiled for a split-second, glancing at Cas nervously.

"We're heading to California," Cas reiterated.

The guy nodded, stomping his cigarette out on the sidewalk. "How long you guys in town for?"

"Just the night," Dean replied quickly.

"Why don't you guys come chill for a while? My brother grows, he's got some crazy bud. My parents are up in Aspen for the week."

Cas looked at Dean, who looked unsure. "Do you want to?"

"Uhh..." He trailed off, feeling his stomach growling in protest over the change in plans. Cas seemed excited though. "Sure, why not," he shrugged.

They followed the guy back to his house, which was only a few blocks away.

"Bienvenido a mi casa," the guy said as he closed the door behind them. "Have a seat." He waved his arm towards the couch.

As Cas sat down, he tugged Dean's arm to get him to sit as well.

"Jeremy!" the guy yelled up the stairs.

"What?!"

"Don't _what_ me, just get down here!" he yelled, turning back around. "Thirsty?" he asked.

Dean shook his head but Cas nodded. "Water's fine," he said.

He exited the room just as footsteps descended the stairs. A tall man with shaggy brown hair appeared, wearing a flannel and shorts. "Oh, well, you didn't tell me we had company, Jake," he said, smirking in their direction.

Jake reappeared with two cold water bottles, setting them down on the coffee table. "This is, uhhh..." He trailed off. "Shit, I didn't even get you guys' names."

Cas smiled. "I'm Cas. This is Dean."

"Nice to meet you guys," Jeremy said, leaning forward and extending his hand. Dean and Cas both shook his hand before he leaned back, placing his hands in his back pockets. "Let me guess, Jake here brought you over to sample the goods?" He paused. "Are you looking to buy any?"

Cas shrugged. "Sure. I already have some, but if your stuff's good, I'm more than happy to stock up." He smiled.

Jeremy grinned. "See, that's what I like to hear. I'll be right back." He disappeared back up the stairs.

Jake took a seat across from them in an armchair, crossing his legs. "So, what's in California?" He paused. "Well, besides everything. But what are _you_ guys going for?"

"I'm going to school there," Cas replied.

Dean looked around, noticing an ashtray on the coffee table. "Can we smoke in here?" he asked.

Jake nodded and Dean quickly lit a cigarette.

"That's cool," Jake said in response to Cas. "You guys gonna miss Kansas?"

Jeremy appeared again with a rubbermaid tote of jars.

"Jesus," Dean breathed. He'd never seen so much weed in one place.

Cas laughed. "I can't speak for Dean, his brother still lives there. But I certainly won't miss it."

"Yeah, I'm sure they didn't treat you guys too kindly over there, huh?" Jeremy asked, sitting in the other armchair next to Jake and setting the tote down on the floor at his feet.

"W- what do you mean?" Dean asked in surprise.

Jeremy looked up from the tote, raising an eyebrow at Dean. "You guys _are_ gay, right?"

Dean felt his stomach knot up and he quickly looked down to ash his cigarette.

"Yes," Cas said quickly. "Dean doesn't really like to talk about it though." He frowned.

Jake leaned back in the chair and laughed. "Man, life's too short to be embarrassed about what makes you happy." He paused. "I'll tell you what, you're gonna _love_ California though. It'll be like a breath of fresh air after Kansas."

Cas nodded. "I'm looking forward to it. Although I think it might be a bit of a culture-shock for Dean."

Dean clenched his jaw, growing more embarrassed. He didn't like being talked about like he wasn't there. "I'm sure I'll be fine," he mumbled, taking a drag off his cigarette, hoping for a subject change.

"Alright, so I've got a lot of different strains here. Anything in particular you're looking for?" Jeremy asked.

Cas thought for a moment. "Pain relief... and some great sativa."

He laughed. "You got it." He pulled out four jars. "The best two indicas and sativas I have."

Cas unscrewed one of the jars and smelled it, then held it out to Dean who did the same. Dean nodded approvingly.

Cas picked one indica and one sativa, and Jeremy weighed the bags out before handing them over. "Alright," he said, clapping his hands together. "Let's smoke." He reached behind the armchair and pulled out a large bong, packing the bowlhead and holding the bong out to Dean. "Want greens?" he said, shooting him a smile.

"Uh, yeah," Dean said, feeling his face growing warm. "Thanks." He took the bong, took a hit, and passed it to Cas, who passed it to Jake, who in turn passed it back to Jeremy. After about forty-five minutes of this, they were all fairly stoned.

"Wow," Cas said, leaning back into the couch. "Your brother wasn't joking about you growing some crazy bud."

Jeremy laughed. "Thanks. I've been growing for years."

"Wait... how old are you?" Dean asked slowly.

Jeremy laughed again. "I know, I know, I don't look a day over nineteen. But I'm twenty-four. It's all the herb, I swear. Keeps you young."

Dean smiled nervously. He glanced over at Cas, who was checking his phone, noticing it was eight-thirty.

Cas sighed. "It was really great to meet you guys, and thank you so much for smoking with us, but we should probably head back to the motel and get some sleep. We have to hit the road early."

"Yeah man, no problem," Jeremy said, and they both stood up. Jake and Dean followed their lead, standing up as well. "It was nice to meet you guys. I hope you enjoy yourselves in Cali." He winked at Dean, whose eyes widened. Cas didn't notice, looking down to rummage through the many pockets of his trench coat. "Listen, why don't you guys take down my number. If you're ever in the area again, hit us up," Jeremy suggested, still looking at Dean.

"Yeah... okay," Dean said, pulling his phone out of his pocket and handing it over.

Jeremy pressed a few buttons before handing it back over and smiling at Dean. He sat back down and the rest of them moved towards the door. "Thanks again," Cas said.

Jake nodded. "No problemo, dudes. Safe travels."

They turned and walked down the steps as Jake closed the door behind them.

"Sheesh, you just couldn't keep your eyes off that one, huh?"

"Shut up," Jeremy said, arranging all the jars back in the tote.

"He did have _lovely_ green eyes, although I thought you were a chubby chaser," Jake teased, plopping down on the couch. "He wasn't-"

Jeremy rolled his eyes, resting them on Jake and interrupting him. "First off, he wasn't exactly a twig either. Second, can we stop talking about my sexual preferences? Shit, I regret telling you anything." He turned his attention back to his jars.

"I didn't know they were _together_ when I brought them over, I swear." He snickered. Not that it mattered, he had only brought them over to smoke. It wasn't his fault his brother had taken a liking to Dean.

"Look, some action would've been nice, but I'm always glad just to make a sale. Now knock it off." He paused. "And stop bringing guys home to try and hook me up. I can find my own, thanks."

"Oh, because that's going _so_ well," Jake retorted.

Jeremy huffed and rose to his feet, holding the tote against his stomach. "Fuck off," he grumbled, before quickly crossing the living room and disappearing up the stairs.


	30. Chapter 30

As they walked back to the motel, they passed a diner. "We still didn't eat," Dean said, stopping and longingly looking into the building. Now that he was high as fuck, his stomach was again attempting to remind him to eat by grumbling loudly.

Cas stopped as well. "Yeah, I'm starving," he said, absentmindedly placing his hand on his stomach. They walked inside and saw it was packed. "Do you want to look for another one?" Cas asked, turning to Dean.

Dean shrugged. "Nah, it's fine. Thank you though."

Cas smiled as a hostess approached. "Just two?"

They nodded and she led them to a small two-person booth in the corner of the restaurant, one of the few tables not yet occupied.

It took a long time for their food to arrive. By the time they paid the check and left, it was 10:30. They walked slowly back to the hotel, tired, high, and full.

Dean laid down immediately, while Cas went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. When he returned, Dean was already under the blanket. Cas undressed and slid underneath to join him, facing him.

Dean wrapped his arms around Cas' waist, pulling him closer. As Cas tucked his face into Dean's chest, his hair tickled Dean's nose.

"I love you," Cas murmured into his chest.

"Love you too," Dean mumbled, drifting off into sleep.

* * *

The next day, Cas awoke at six. He didn't want to, but they needed to get on the road if they were going to have time to hike and still drive a decent distance.

"Dean, wake up," he said, touching his shoulder.

"What time is it?" Dean mumbled, cracking his eyes open.

"Six. We gotta go. I'll drive if you want."

Dean nodded and sat up, streching his arms above his head and yawning. He then reached down and grabbed his clothes off the floor, pulling his shirt over his head before standing up to pull on his pants.

Cas gave the room a once-over to make sure nothing of theirs was lying out. Once he confirmed everything was in their bags, he slung his over his shoulder and tossed Dean an unlit cigarette. "Let's go, sleepyhead."

Dean threw their bags into the backseat of the Impala and plopped himself down in the front while Cas checked out at the front desk. He was nearly drifting off again, the unlit cigarette dangling from his lips, when the door creaked open, and Cas dropped himself into the drivers seat. He clicked his seatbelt and looked over at Dean, starting the car. "Jeez, you look tired. Are you gonna be able to do the trail?"

Dean nodded. "How long until we're there?"

"An hour," Cas replied, craning his neck to check for traffic before backing out of the parking spot and into the road.

"Wake me up in thirty," Dean mumbled, letting his head fall onto his shoulder and leaning into the window.

_"Dean!"_

_Dean startled awake, nearly falling out of bed. "Yes?" he said groggily. He could hear a baby screaming in another room._

_"Go shut your brother up."_

_Dean swung his legs over the side of the bed, standing up and shuffling past his father, out the door, and into Sam's room. As he pulled up the step stool, he could hear his father stumbling back into his room, slamming his door behind him. He fumbled with the safety lock on the crib before popping it open and lowering the side panel. He picked up Sam and carefully stepped down._

_"It's okay Sammy, no wonder you're crying," he said softly, kicking the stool over to the changing table. "I'm gonna get you all cleaned up."_

_He changed him and sat down on the floor with him. A one-year old was heavy, and he was only five. He bounced him on his leg as best he could, singing him the lullaby Mary used to sing to him. She had only been gone for six months, but to Dean, it felt like years._

_Soon Sam quieted down, and Dean carefully set him down on the floor so he could stand up. He then bent down, hoisted him back up, and walked back over to the crib. He placed Sam in, singing for a few more minutes to ensure he was asleep before latching the crib again and retreating to his room._

"Dean?"

Dean slowly opened his eyes and lifted his head, turning to Cas. "Huh?"

"We're about twenty minutes away."

Dean straightened up and fumbled around for his cigarettes. He located the one Cas had given him earlier lying on his lap. He lit it up and partially rolled down the window.

"You okay?" Cas asked, glancing over at him.

"Yeah, why?" Dean said, taking a long drag and squinting out the window.

Cas shrugged. "You were mumbling in your sleep."

Dean was quiet for a minute, still staring out the window. "Yeah. Wasn't exactly a nightmare or anything, though, so."

"Okay. I'm just asking," Cas said quietly.

Dean looked at him. "I know. Thank you for caring." He smiled weakly.

Cas returned his smile before turning back to the road. "So, we didn't get breakfast or anything but I brought some stuff. Can't do all that walking on an empty stomach, we'll pass out."

Dean nodded. "Yeah. I'm hungry."

"Well it's in my bag," he said, nodding his head towards the backseat.

Dean turned around, grabbing Cas' bag and dragging it up front. He opened it up to find a couple of ziplock bags, packed with snacks. "Damn, Cas, you are always prepared," he mumbled, rifling through them. "You want any?"

"I'll have some of whatever you pick," he said, glancing down at his phone, which was open to his GPS app.

Dean pulled out a bag of pretzels and closed up the bag, putting it back in the backseat. He opened it and held it out to Cas, who reached in and took a handful.

"Thank you."

Dean didn't respond right away, staring off out the windshield. Then he said, "Thank _you_." He turned to Cas. "You packed them. And you're paying for this roadtrip. And you're taking me to California with you. And-"

"Dean," Cas cut him off.

Dean stopped and turned to look at him, mouth open slightly.

"Stop it. You know I wouldn't have it any other way." Cas grinned.

They pulled into the dirt parking lot, large clouds of dust kicking up behind them. They waited for it to settle before getting out of the car. Cas grabbed his backpack and asked Dean to carry his camera.

As they approached the shed-like building at the entrance, Cas pulled out his wallet. He paid the teller the entrance fee and they began walking down the trail.

"Okay, so it said online there is a lot of active wildlife, so keep the camera ready," Cas said.

"Okay."

They walked in silence, looking around at the vast fields of gold and green surrounding them. The air was brisk, as it was only about seven-thirty. Birds chirped from the trees and the grass rustled in the wind.

"Look!" Cas whispered.

Dean turned to where he was pointing. From behind some rocks about ten yards away, four fox cubs peered at them. Dean lifted up the camera and zoomed in, snapping a few photos.

"They're so cuuuuute," Cas gushed.

The bush behind them rustled and an adult red fox appeared, looking at the cubs before looking up at Dean and Cas.

Dean continued snapping photos. "I think that's the mom," he said.

She turned and disappeared back into the bush, and one by one, the cubs followed her, looking back over their shoulders at the boys before disappearing into the brush.

Dean lowered the camera, turning to Cas and seeing the excitement in his face. "I didn't know you liked foxes so much."

"They're my favorite," Cas said, not taking his eyes off the bush.

Dean frowned. "How did I not know that?"

Cas shrugged, finally looking at him. "I guess it never came up." He paused. "What's yours?"

Dean thought for a minute. "I never thought about it..." he said. "Give me a minute." He started walking again and Cas trailed behind.

Fifteen minutes later, they saw a coyote.

"Oh shit," Dean said. "He's close." He snapped a picture before his voice scared him off.

"They're skittish," Cas said. They started walking again.

"The wolf," Dean said suddenly.

"Huh?" Cas asked, turning his head to look at him.

"My favorite animal. The wolf. They're... brave, loyal, smart... and they take care of their family," he said slowly. "And they're totally badass," he added with a smile.

Cas smiled back. "Sounds like you." He grabbed his hand as they walked.

Dean turned red. "You're such a dork."

Cas smiled and murmured in agreement. As they continued to walk, Cas was lost in thought. Finally he said, "Dean, can we get a dog?"

Dean stopped dead in his tracks. "What?"

Cas stopped, letting go of his hand and turning to face him. "A dog. Can we get one?"

"I... I mean, it's your apartment, you don't... you don't have to ask my permission. But..." He hesitated. "I'm not really a dog person."

"Oh," Cas said, frowning. "Are you a cat person?"

"I guess I'm not really a cat person, either," he said, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat.

"Have you... ever had a pet?" Cas asked, raising his eyebrows.

Dean closed his eyes. "No." He could feel his heart rate increasing and his palms sweating. "Can... can we talk about this later?" he mumbled.

"Yeah," Cas said with a nod. He slowly started walking and Dean followed, reaching into his back pocket for his cigarettes and shakily lighting one.

They continued on, the incline of the trail rising steadily. Cas wondered what the hell that was all about with Dean. He knew the beginnings of a panic attack, Dean had had plenty, but lately he'd been having less. To have one over the simple mention of a pet meant Dean wasn't being entirely truthful about something. He knew he had to let it go, though. It would just have to wait until Dean was ready.

Finally after what seemed like forever, they reached the falls. Trying to calm his breathing wasn't easy when you were trekking uphill. Dean sat down on a rock, his face a bit red.

"It's gorgeous," Cas said. He glanced down at Dean. "Let me see the camera."

Dean took it off from around his neck and handed it to Cas. "Did you bring water?" he rasped.

Cas shrugged his backpack off, dropping it onto the ground next to Dean and walking off to frame a good shot of the waterfall. After a few minutes he circled back, looking down at his camera. "I got some good ones."

"Can we take one of us to send Sam?" Dean asked quietly, putting his water bottle back in the bag.

"Of course," Cas replied, putting his camera back in the case which was still around Dean's neck. "Come on."

Dean lifted the shoulder strap over his head, standing up and leaving the camera case on the ground next to Cas' backpack. They walked over to the edge, turning around, and Cas held up his phone. "Ready?"

He snapped a photo and pulled it up to show Dean. Dean stared at it for a second, then said, "Okay. Send it."

Cas sent it to Sam with the text _'dean says hi'_. He then looked around. "There's no one here, want to smoke before we head back?"

Dean nodded and they walked back over to where they had left their stuff, sitting down. Cas pulled out his Altoids tin and rolled a huge joint. He shoved the tin back in his bag and lit the joint, passing it to Dean.

"So what's the plan from here?" Dean asked as they took the last few hits off the joint.

Cas shrugged. "I couldn't find much. After this we have to go through Wyoming and Utah."

"Oh, joy," Dean muttered.

Cas' phone went off with a text message alert. He pulled it out of the pocket of his jeans; he had gone "casual", as he called it, again today. "It's Sam," he said. "He asked where we are and if we're having fun."

Dean was smiling. "Tell him I'll call him when we get back on the road."

Cas nodded, texting Sam back. When he was finished, he looked up from his phone. "You ready?"

Dean nodded and they stood up, grabbing the bag and camera bag and heading back the way they came.

As they settled into the car, the Doors were playing on the radio. "Okay, so it's about six hours to Salt Lake City," Cas said, buckling his seat belt. "We should be there by 4:30, if you want to stop. Then it's another hour and a half until the Nevada border."

"Then how close are we?" Dean asked.

Cas sighed. "Then it's another six hours to Reno, then another three and a half hours to cross California." He closed his eyes, thinking for a minute. "I guess we should stop shortly after we enter Nevada and find a motel."

Dean nodded. "Alright, let's get going then."

They had decided against stopping in Salt Lake City and drove straight on, only stopping for bathroom breaks and fast food, until nine, when Cas was drifting off in the passenger seat and Dean couldn't stop yawning.

"Where are we?" Cas asked sleepily as Dean exited the highway.

"Some place called Elko," Dean mumbled, driving in the direction of the first neon vacancy sign he saw.

Cas checked them in at the front desk and when he returned with the key, Dean followed him in with the bags, dropping them onto the table. As he lifted his head, he froze.

"What's up?" Cas asked, eyeing him from the bed where he had already flopped onto his back.

"I just had some serious déjà vu," Dean muttered, shaking his head.

"All this driving is murder on my back," Cas groaned.

Dean rummaged through Cas' bag, locating an orange bottle and a water bottle. He walked over to the bed, holding them out.

"Thank you," Cas said, taking both. He shook two pills out and tossed them back, taking a sip of water and handing the pill bottle back to Dean. Dean put it back in his bag as Cas set the water bottle on the nightstand.

"Do you want me to rub your back?" Dean asked, zipping Cas' bag, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. Cas usually didn't take his pills often- _maybe_ once a day, but never more than twice a day, and _never_ two at once. He had already taken one that morning, and he had just taken two more.

Cas smiled sleepily, his eyelids heavy. "That would be nice, thank you." He rolled over onto his stomach, stretching slowly.

Dean walked over to the bed, climbing on top of Cas and straddling his legs. He pulled his shirt off over his head, tossing it to the floor. He slowly started working between Cas' shoulders with the palms of his hands.

Cas groaned into the pillow.

"Does that hurt?" Dean asked, rubbing gingerly.

"Yes," Cas croaked. "But it needs to be done."

Dean frowned but didn't stop. Eventually the grunts and sighs subsided. "Cas?" Dean asked softly.

He didn't get a response, so he figured Cas had fallen asleep. He slowly climbed off, trying not to jostle the mattress too much. Settling down at the table, he lit a cigarette and watched Cas sleep. He wanted to think about how perfect Cas' ass looked in those jeans, but he had other things on his mind. He took a drag off his cigarette and shook his head, averting his gaze. He just couldn't appreciate the ass properly.

Snuffing out his cigarette, he approached the bed, removing his clothes and pulling the covers out from beneath Cas. He stirred, reaching underneath the pillow. Dean threw the blanket over him before climbing underneath and scooting up next to Cas, placing his arm around him. He heard Cas sigh contently, and he did the same, breathing in the sweet smell of sweat and shampoo from his hair before falling asleep.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: violence, child abuse, gun violence, animal abuse, abuse flashbacks
> 
> im warning you right now, this chapter is fucked up.

Dean cried out as John yanked him by the arm.

"Stop yer fuckin' whinin'," John spat.

From the corner came a low growl. "Knock it off unless you want some too, mutt," John snapped into the darkness.

From beneath the bed came a flash of teeth as a chocolate lab launched itself at the arm John was gripping Dean with. John yelled, dropping Dean to the floor as the teeth came down on his forearm. He yanked his arm from it's grip, swinging it back down to backhand the dog, who yelped and landed at the base of the bed frame with a crack.

"Fuck you, you stupid dog," John screamed, towering over the dog, blood dripping from his arm. "How dare you bite the hand that feeds you?"

"He's scared of you!" Dean screamed. "Leave him alone!"

John shot daggers at Dean. "If you hadn't been a stupid little fuck, this wouldn't be happening." He turned back to the dog, giving it a swift kick before turning and storming out, slamming the door so hard, it didn't latch, only swung back open. Dean flinched as he heard John's bedroom door slam as well. Across the hall, Sam started crying from his crib.

He crawled over to the dog, who was shaking and whimpering. "Hey, hey, it's okay," he said softly, tears streaming down his face. He reached a shaking hand out to run it along his side. "You're a good boy."

The dog lifted it's head to lick Dean's forearm before laying his head back down. Dean pet him for a few minutes until he stopped shaking. Dean crawled over to the bedroom door, closing it quietly and turning the light on. He went back over to the dog to check him for damage. All he could find was a chipped canine tooth.

"It's okay, Charlie," he said softly. He snuck out into the hallway and into Sam's room to quiet him down before John came out again.

Once Sam had fallen back asleep, Dean went back into his bedroom, turning the light back off. He climbed into bed under the covers and Charlie gingerly jumped up to join him, stretching out alongside Dean. He wrapped his arm around his chest carefully, tucking his face behind his velvety ear.

"Thank you for protecting me," Dean whispered into his fur.

Charlie tilted his head back to lick Dean's face before settling back into a sleeping position.

Dean awoke to silence and darkness. He shifted slightly and felt Cas sleeping beside him. He then realized he was crying. He lifted his hands to wipe his face. Why did Cas have to want a dog? He couldn't want a damn lizard?

* * *

"Cas, wake up," Dean said, sitting next to him on the bed and shaking his shoulder. "It's ten o'clock, we overslept."

Cas stirred, stretching and lifting his head to yawn. "What?" he asked groggily, looking at Dean through drooped lids. "Seriously?"

Dean nodded, frowning. "I couldn't get you up, I've been trying for an hour. I went and got breakfast."

"Thanks," Cas said, rolling over, sitting up, and rubbing his face.

Dean stood up and walked over to the table, grabbing a take-out container and plastic fork and bringing it to Cas.

"Breakfast in bed?" Cas asked with a half-smile.

Dean smiled as he watched him open his breakfast. He was so adorable, his hair sticking up every which way, his face fighting through sleep as he slowly chewed his pancakes.

"How far are we? Are we going to get there today?" Dean asked.

Cas nodded slowly. He swallowed his mouthful of pancakes. "Eight or nine hours."

"Oh man," Dean said, smiling nervously.

"I can't believe I slept that long," Cas said absentmindedly, cutting another bite of pancakes with his fork. "Those pills really knocked me out."

"Well... you don't usually take two at a time," Dean said.

"Yeah," Cas said, holding the fork mid-air. "Being in the car for so long is really painful."

"I'm sorry," Dean said softly, leaning forward and placing a kiss on his cheek.

"It's not your fault," Cas said, smiling and blushing slightly. He took another bite of his breakfast.

"It kind of is..." Dean mumbled. "We could've flown... but I was scared." He looked down.

"It's okay." Cas smiled warmly. "I actually really like road-tripping with you." He swallowed his mouthful of food. "Smoking, blasting music, flying down the interstate, staying at motels and eating fast food."

"You know..." Dean started. "It all feels kind of... familiar, doesn't it?"

"Well, yeah," Cas said. "We drove around a lot in Kansas and smoked."

"No, I mean, yeah, but that was all in Lawrence or pretty close to it. I mean... the _trip_. The motels, the diner food, and yeah, also the driving with you in the passenger seat, but it being on the _open_ road. And... not really having a home. Living out of a duffel bag." He paused. "I don't know. It just feels more than familiar. It keeps feeling like déjà vu. Like we've been doing this for way more than just a few days."

Cas was quiet for a minute, his brow furrowed in thought, slowly chewing a bite of pancakes. He swallowed. "I do know what you mean." Another pause hung in the air as he squinted out across the room. "Maybe it just means we are right where we're supposed to be." He looked back down at his pancakes and shrugged. "Or that weed from Jake and Jeremy is way better than we thought."

Dean burst out laughing and Cas chuckled along with him. Shoving the last bite of pancakes into his mouth, he handed Dean the container so he could get dressed.

They packed up, making sure they had everything, and loaded up into the car.

"Here we go," Dean sighed, pulling out of the parking lot. "Nine hours."

"I should call the landlord," Cas mumbled, pulling his phone out of his pocket. It rang a few times before she answered. "Hi Janet, it's Castiel... Yes, we should be there between seven and eight... Okay... Okay, great. Yeah, I'll call you... Okay, thanks."

"What did she say?" Dean asked as he hung up.

"She just said to call her when we're an hour away, and she'll come meet us there and give us the key," he said, closing his eyes and leaning back in the seat.

"Are you still tired?" Dean asked.

"A little, but mostly my back is still hurting," Cas said.

"Why don't you lie down in the back seat?" Dean suggested.

"That's actually not a bad idea," Cas said, opening his eyes. He propped himself up and twisted around, pushing their bags onto the floor. He climbed over, plopping down across the backseat, thankful they had brought pillows and blankets. He grabbed a pillow off the floor of the car and positioned it under his head before curling up under the blanket.

As Cas slept, Dean couldn't stop thinking about his dream. He hadn't thought about Charlie in a long time- since before Cas. Charlie had been his mother's dog. He was there when she brought Dean home from the hospital, he was there when she brought Sam home, he was there for all the fights, he was there when Mary died. Occasionally he would try to step in, earning himself his own beating, so he was usually thrown in a kennel so he couldn't get involved. John, of course, hated the dog; but he hated most everything.

Dean turned up the radio a bit, trying to drown out the thoughts, but it was hard when half of the stations were static or in Spanish and there was nothing to look at but miles and miles of Nevada desert.

"Didn't I tell you to cage that dog at night?!" John yelled as Charlie came around the corner, growling and baring his teeth.

"I wanted him to sleep with me!" Dean cried. "I closed my door!"

"That's not the point!" John screamed. "You do what I fucking tell you. You don't make your own damn decisions!" He reached out and smacked him across the face.

Before Dean could respond, Charlie lunged at John, biting him on the leg. This time he let go and ducked when John swung at him, then lunged again, biting him on the forearm.

" _Fuck_!" John yelled.

Charlie ran back to Dean, checking on him and licking his hands. John lunged forward and grabbed Charlie by his dirty collar, yanking him up off the ground.

"No!" Dean yelled.

"Didn't I tell you to kennel him?!" John yelled. "This is your fault."

Charlie flailed and gasped as John turned and walked out, dragging him behind.

"Let's go, you little shit," John growled at him.

Dean followed behind John, begging him to stop. They went down the stairs and through the kitchen, where John grabbed his shotgun off the kitchen table.

"No!" Dean screamed, grabbing at the back of John's shirt. "Stop!"

John pulled from his weak five-year-old grip easily, barging out the backdoor and flinging Charlie to the ground. Charlie pushed himself up on his front paws, coughing and hacking into the grass.

"Charlie," Dean cried, pushing past John and dropping to his knees in front of the dog and throwing his arms around his neck. He turned to John, who was cocking his gun. "Please, please, no," he cried, squeezing Charlie.

"He's attacked twice, boy. He's dangerous," John said gruffly.

" _You're_ dangerous!" Dean yelled, shutting his eyes and burying his face in Charlie's neck.

"Move," was all John said, aiming the gun at them both.

"No!" he choked out into Charlie's fur.

John surged forward and flung Dean out of the way.

"Charlie, run!" Dean screamed as he hit the ground. He looked up to see Charlie jump up and begin moving towards him when the blast of the shotgun pierced the air.

Dean let out a blood-curdling scream as blood sprayed across his face and Charlie's lifeless body fell to the ground only a few feet in front of him.

"This is your fault!" John yelled. "If you had kenneled him like I fuckin' told you, this wouldn'ta happened!"

Dean couldn't take his eyes off Charlie's lifeless body, tears streaming down his face.

"Man up, stop being such a pansy!" John growled. "Things die, that's life. Get fuckin' used to it. It's just a damn dog." And with that he turned and stormed back into the house, slamming the screen door behind him.

Dean slammed on the breaks and veered onto the shoulder, bringing his shaking hands up to rub his face.

Cas jerked awake, springing up. "What's going on?" he asked groggily as the car lurched to a halt and they were enveloped in a cloud of dust. He looked around and noticed Dean hunched forward, his head in his hands, crying in the driver's seat. "Dean, what's going on?" he asked urgently, leaning over the seat to look at him.

"Just- _fuck_ ," Dean sobbed between heaving breaths.

Cas knew he was in the middle of a panic attack, and there was nothing he could do. All there was to do was ride it out. Because of his issues with addiction, his psychiatrist had refused to write him any PRN anxiety medication, such as Xanax. Cas threw the blanket off and climbed out of the backseat, standing at the driver's side door. Dean inched over and he climbed in, putting the car back in drive and pulling off.

"I'm sorry," Dean whispered after what felt like forever.

"Why?" Cas asked, not taking his eyes off the road.

"Because I had a flashback while driving and could have gotten us killed."

"It's not your fault, Dean." He glanced over at him.

_"This is your fault! If you had kenneled him like I fuckin' told you-"_

Dean sighed, closing his eyes. "Yeah, I know. I'm just saying, I'm sorry that you have to deal with it." Cas was quiet. "How far are we?" Dean said, lighting a cigarette.

"Two hours," Cas said. "We should be there at eight-thirty."

"Cool," Dean said halfheartedly, exhaling a large cloud of smoke.


	32. Chapter 32

"I've never seen so many rainbow flags in one place," Dean said, craning his neck to look around as they drove down the street.

"Yeah, get used to it," Cas said with a laugh.

They passed a bar called the Powerhouse, where a bunch of men wearing revealing leather poured out the door onto the sidewalk, talking and puffing on cigarettes. "Jesus," Dean mumbled, turning bright red.

Cas shook his head, smiling. "Modesty isn't exactly their forte here."

"I noticed," Dean said quietly.

The apartment was only a few minutes outside of the main part of town, but on a quiet suburban street. They pulled into the driveway and Cas put the car in park. "I thought it was an apartment?" Dean asked, peering out the windshield at the house.

Cas squinted towards the house. It looked small. Bushes framed the front and it was painted a sky blue. White shutters framed the windows. "I thought it was. Maybe it's a two-family."

"Looks kinda small for that," Dean pointed out.

"Let's go find out," Cas said, opening the door.

As they closed the doors behind them, the front door opened and a woman stepped out, leaving the door ajar behind her, light pouring out of the house and onto the walkway. She shuffled down the walkway to the driveway to meet them. She was wearing gray sweatpants and a purple hoodie, and her long blonde hair was pulled back into a messy bun.

"Hi boys!" she said as she closed in on them. "Nice to finally meet you! Which one of you is Castiel?"

Cas raised his hand a bit, smiling sheepishly. "I am."

She shook his hand before turning to Dean. "So you must be Dean," she said with a smile. She extended her hand. "I'm Janet."

"Nice to meet you," Dean said, shaking her hand.

"You too!" She reached into her hoodie pocket, pulling out two keys and handing them to Cas. "Do you guys want me to show you around?"

"I think we'll be okay," Cas said. "We're _super_ tired."

"Oh, I'm sure!" she said with a chuckle. "You came all the way from Kansas, right?" She glanced past him briefly at the license plate on the Impala.

They both nodded.

"Oh, you two are going to _love_ it here," she giggled. "Anyway, I'll let you guys get settled. Call me if you two need anything." She winked and walked past them.

"Thank you!" Cas called after her as she turned onto the sidewalk and disappeared into the dark. He turned to Dean, smiling nervously. "Ready?"

Dean nodded. Cas grabbed his hand and they walked up the walkway and into the house, closing the front door behind them.

The house wasn't as small as it seemed from the inside, which was probably due to the open floor plan. They entered into the living room. It was a decent size, and the farthest third of the room was taken up by the kitchen. An island created some sense of a barrier to separate the two areas. They walked farther in and noticed a small hallway on the left with three doors, two facing them, and one at the end of the hallway.

Cas let go of Dean's hand and opened the first one. It was the bedroom. The only room with a carpet, it was soft and a sandy tan color, with matte white walls. There was a window on the opposite side of the room that Cas hoped faced the rising sun. He loved being woken up that way. They exited the room and Cas opened the door to the right of the bedroom. A bathroom, not the roomiest but not too small either, stared back at them. To the left was a sink and medicine cabinet, to the right the toilet, and on the far side along the wall was a bathtub. Cas closed the door back up, he wasn't sure why, and made his way to the door at the end of the hallway. It was a linen closet. He closed it back up and turned to Dean.

"What do you think?" he asked quietly.

Dean touched his fingers to his chin, tapping, looking off and pondering for a moment. Without turning his head, he slowly brought his eyes back to meet Cas, who was chewing on his lip, his eyebrows furrowed. A grin spread slowly across Dean's face. "I love it."

Cas' body relaxed and he smiled. "Me too."

"If you'll excuse me, I need to piss like a motherfucker though." He disappeared into the bathroom.

Cas wandered back into the bedroom, looking around. It was completely bare, but he couldn't help imagining what it would look like when they'd made it their own. He had never bothered decorating at his parents, but for some reason he now felt the urge to. His mind wandered, thinking of what he could even decorate with. Posters? Maybe some of those cool animals in jars like the ones they'd seen at the Wonder Tower...

Dean reappeared behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and placing his chin on his shoulder. They were quiet for a moment before Dean said, "We are going to need a ton of shit."

Cas nodded. Dean moved back from him, frowning. "It's going to be expensive."

"Have you never heard of a dollar store?" Cas asked, turning around to face him with a smirk on his face.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Of course I have. I'm poor as shit, remember?" He looked at Cas. "But all that stuff's cheap and falls apart."

Cas shrugged. "Eventually we will replace it. But for now I'd rather invest in the things that _need_ to last... Like furniture." He paused. "A bed."

"Right," Dean said absentmindedly. "I guess we're sleeping on the floor tonight." He paused. "I'll go get the blankets out of the car." He turned on his heel and walked out, leaving Cas alone.

Dean returned with the two blankets and two pillows that they had brought, dropping them on the carpet in the corner of the bedroom and shrugging his and Cas' bags off his shoulders. He picked up the thicker blanket, shaking it and laying it flat on the floor. Tossing the pillows at the top, he dropped the other blanket at the foot of the first one. Plopping down on the side nearest the window, he patted the space next to him. "Come sit," he said, smiling warmly.

Cas walked over quickly, dropping his trench coat from his shoulders to land in a crumpled pile on the floor and kicking off his shoes. He lower himself onto the blanket next to Dean, crossing his legs and loosening his tie.

"Are you happy?" Dean asked.

Cas nodded. "Are you?" he asked quietly.

Dean smiled. "I'm nervous as hell, but yes." He leaned in and Cas closed his eyes as he kissed him softly. When he pulled back, he grinned. "What do you say we christen the place?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Cas pursed his lips. "Are you sure you want to... after today?"

Dean's face fell. "Yes."

Cas looked around slowly. There was only one window, but it was kind of low and there were no curtains. "But we don't have curtains," Cas said.

Dean followed his gaze over to the window. "I don't think anybody is going to peer in the window," he turned back to Cas, "but we could turn the lights off, huh?"

Cas nodded slowly before stopping and furrowing his brow again. "Wait... we don't have anything to shower with. I don't want to go shopping tomorrow stinking like sex."

"Aw, c'mon, that smell suits you," Dean purred, nuzzling his neck.

Cas blushed, halfheartedly pushing him away. "Tomorrow."

"Fine," Dean grumbled with mock-annoyance. "I'm exhausted anyway." He laid back on the pillow, resting his hands on his stomach and staring up at the ceiling.

Cas wrapped his arms around his knees. "Do you want to talk about today?" he asked hesitantly.

Dean closed his eyes and sighed. "Not really... But I want you to know. And I want to get it over with so I can forget about it again."

Cas was quiet and Dean re-opened his eyes. "When I was younger... we had a dog. His name was Charlie... After my mom died, he and Sam were all I had. I... I did everything for him, too. Fed him, let him outside, brushed him..." He took a deep breath. "When my dad would..." He paused briefly and closed his eyes again. "...get violent, he would try and... intervene." He reached his hands up to rub away the tears forming in his eyes. "One day," he swallowed hard and continued, his voice shaking, "Charlie attacked him while he was coming after me." He took another deep breath, choking a bit as the night replayed in his head.

Cas stared at him intently, his brows furrowed in concern. "Dean... you don't have to."

"No," he choked out, inhaling sharply. "It's okay." He wiped his face again. "My dad lost his shit," he said quickly, wanting to get it out as soon as possible. "He was bleeding everywhere and he dragged Charlie outside and-" His breath hitched. "He fucking shot him. Point blank in the head. Right in front of me," he said as fresh tears quickly accumulated in the corners of his eyes before rolling down the side of his face onto the pillow.

Cas opened his mouth but hesitated, unsure of what to say.

Dean continued, his eyes shaking slightly as he stared up at the ceiling, no doubt imagining the moment over and over again. "And he was running to me and I..." He sobbed. "I had his blood all over my face," he cried, rolling over and burying his face between Cas' thigh and the blanket. "And my dad just called me a pansy," he choked out into Cas' leg. "Told me to get over it because he was just a _damn dog_. He left me out there to bury him..." He trailed off before squeezing Cas' leg and adding angrily, "I was only _five_!"

Cas reached down to place his fingers in Dean's hair in an attempt to comfort him.

"I had to go upstairs and wash the blood off myself..." He trailed off. "I just threw the clothes away," he mumbled.

"Dean... I'm so sorry," Cas said softly, carding his fingers through his hair.

Dean lifted his head, sniffling. He rolled back onto his back, wiping his face again. "I had nightmares for a long time. I just don't know if I can handle having a dog," he said quietly.

Cas nodded slowly. "I understand," he said somberly.

"I'm sorry," Dean mumbled.

Cas shrugged lightly. "It's okay Dean. You don't have to be sorry. No one should ever see what you've seen."

Dean sighed heavily, closing his eyes. "Can you grab the cigarettes out of my bag?"

Cas reached forward and grabbed them, leaning back and pulling a lighter from his pocket. He pulled two out and lit them both at the same time before passing one to Dean.

They puffed in silence for a few minutes, ashing into an empty soda can, before Cas got up to open the window. He brought the can with him, setting it down on the windowsill. When Dean's ash became too long to ignore, he carefully got up and padded over to the window, ashing it into the can.

Cas dropped his into the can and it made a harsh hissing noise as it was extinguished in the remaining liquid. "Wanna head to bed?" he asked.

Dean nodded, pulling on his cigarette. "I'm beat." He exhaled a cloud of smoke out the window.

"Me too," Cas agreed, rubbing his eyes. "Let's sleep until whenever and when we get up we'll make a list and then go to the store."

"Sounds good." Dean dropped his cigarette into the can and went back over to their makeshift bed, lying down and pulling the second blanket up over him as Cas turned off the light. Cas made his way to the bed, walking slowly so he wouldn't trip over their bags. He crawled beneath the blanket, scooting up into Dean, who wrapped his arm around him and tucked his face into his shoulder.

"I love you, Dean," Cas said softly.

"Love you, too," Dean mumbled into his neck, tightening his hold on him and drifting off into sleep.

* * *

Cas awoke to sunlight pouring in the window, heating up the room and causing him to sweat through his dress shirt. He groaned, reaching a hand up to rub the sleep from his eyes. He reached next to him, feeling around on the floor for his phone. He squinted at the blurry screen. It was 9:30 and he had some missed notifications.

He set his phone back down and rolled over. Dean was asleep on his stomach, facing the window. He was also soaked with sweat. "Dean," he mumbled.

Dean stirred slightly, groaning.

"Dean, wake up," he said clearer and louder.

Dean's head shot up, looking around and stopping on Cas. He squinted at him sleepily. "Huh?"

"We slept for nearly twelve hours," Cas said, looking wild-eyed in an attempt to keep his lids from drooping.

"Oh," Dean mumbled, blinking slowly. "Okay." He pushed himself up and rolled over to sit up, rubbing his face. "Fuck, it's hot in here."

"Yes," Cas agreed. "We need an air conditioner, among other things."

Dean groaned, grabbing his pack of cigarettes off the floor next to him and lighting one. "I wish you didn't have to spend so much money."

Cas frowned. "Dean, I wish you wouldn't let it bother you so much. My parents aren't going to give me more than they can afford." He paused. "Trust me, they won't be cancelling any trips," he said flatly.

Dean matched his frown.

Cas continued. "I'm just thankful it's something we don't have to worry about. I can worry about school and you can worry about you... Others aren't so lucky."

Dean only nodded. He had a point. It certainly had been nice not worrying about paying for things... not having to steal money from his dad.

"So, I think we should run out and get shower stuff first because I'm soaked with sweat. We're pretty close into town so it shouldn't take long."

"Yeah," Dean agreed as Cas pulled his bag towards him and unzipped it. He rummaged around for a few seconds before pulling out a t-shirt. He unbuttoned his dress shirt, removing it and leaving it on the floor. Dean couldn't stop himself from staring. It had been a year but Cas still looked just as good to him as he always had. He wished he could say the same for himself.

Cas pulled the t-shirt over his head and pushed his bag aside. Picking up his phone, he typed a few things in before saying, "Wanna walk? It says it's only a fifteen minute walk to Dollar General."

Dean nodded. "I could definitely use the exercise."

Cas didn't respond, only grabbed his cigarettes from one of his many trench coat pockets, leaving the coat on the floor as he stood up and disappeared into the hallway. The house was empty and any sound echoed. Dean could hear him urinating in the bathroom. He slowly stood up, stretching, and made his way towards the bathroom. As Cas was exiting, he walked past. He said non-accusingly, "You didn't flush."

"Yeah, gotta conserve water here," Cas replied, leaning against the doorway, hands in his pockets.

Dean turned to Cas and smirked as he zipped up his jeans and reached out to flush the toilet. "So I guess we should shower together, then."

Cas smiled, pushing himself off the wall. "I guess we should."


	33. Chapter 33

Cas lowered the shopping bags to the bathroom floor, sitting down on the closed toilet and unpacking them. Item by item, he lined everything up on the counter. In desperate need of a shower, he'd only gotten the necessities for just that- shampoo, soap, shaving cream and a razor, towels, a shower curtain, etc.

After they spent what felt like way longer than should have been necessary putting up the shower curtain, Cas pulled his shirt off over his head, then began to unfasten his jeans. As his pants fell to the floor, he stared at Dean. "Are you going to get undressed? I thought you wanted to shower together."

"Yeah," Dean said absentmindedly. "Sorry, I was zoning out." He pulled his shirt off and dropped it to the floor and began working on his jeans. "Can we get something to eat when we leave again?" He kicked his pants off and into the corner. "I gotta take my meds."

Cas nodded, then turned around to turn on the water. It warmed up quickly. "I guess we can make our list while we eat." He turned back around and ripped open the soap box, sliding out the bar and grabbing a washcloth off the counter before stepping into the shower. Dean grabbed one as well and climbed in behind him. Once they were clean, Cas reached forward to turn off the water.

"Wait," Dean said, leaning forward and grabbing Cas' arm.

"What?" he asked through the water that was raining down on them. "Are you not done?"

"I am, but..." He smirked. "Why don't we fool around now so we don't have to get back in the shower after?"

Cas laughed. "Good idea."

Dean leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Cas' waist and kissing his neck. Cas sighed and closed his eyes. Dean slowly reached down and took Cas in his hand, beginning to tug rhythmically as his kisses turned to greedy nips at Cas' skin. Cas leaned his head back, exposing his throat to Dean, who leaned further forward and trailed his tongue up and along his jawline. Letting go of Cas, he stroked himself quickly before grabbing Cas' ass with his left hand and lining himself up. He felt Cas press up against him, and he very slowly pushed himself in, gritting his teeth.

Cas let out a long, wavering sigh as Dean bottomed out. Dean wrapped his arm around Cas again, pulling him closer, and they stayed still for a moment. Dean rested his chin on Cas' shoulder as the water poured over them, closing his eyes. When he felt Cas reach down to take a hold of himself, he slowly began pulling out, before thrusting back in again.

Cas gasped, nearly choking on the water that had made it's way into his open mouth. He staggered forward, putting his left hand out on the wall to steady himself. Dean followed without missing a beat, continuing to thrust, picking up his speed, digging his fingers into Cas' hips. Cas lowered his head, pressing his forehead against the cool tile and playing with himself as Dean filled him up. It wasn't long before he came along the tile, his muscles tightening and his hand falling limply to the side.

The noises Cas made and the way his muscles clenched when he climaxed nearly always did Dean in. He pounded harder into Cas for a moment before spilling into him, hips shuddering and fingers numb from their grip on Cas' hips. He thrust lazily twice more before pulling out with a groan. "Ah, fuck," he muttered hazily.

Cas turned and pulled down the shower head, pointing it at the wall to clean it before rinsing himself off. He then handed it to Dean before climbing out. He wrapped a towel around his waist and stepped up to the counter to shave.

Dean emerged shortly after, grabbing another towel and beginning to dry off. Cas had just finished lathering his face in shaving cream. "Shave?" he asked, without looking away from the mirror, smacking the razor on the edge of the sink. A blob of shaving cream and stubble landed near the drain.

Dean nodded, squirting a generous amount of shaving cream into his palm and picking up the fresh razor Cas had set on the counter for him. Once they had finished and rinsed their faces, they headed back to the bedroom to get dressed.

"Okay," Cas said as he pulled a tee shirt over his head. "Do you want to smoke before we eat?"

"Fuck yes," Dean sighed, zipping up his jeans.

Cas sat down next to his bag and rolled a joint as Dean fiddled with his phone. They smoked and brainstormed about a few things they needed, although they didn't write anything down yet.

"We should probably make a list by room," Cas said before taking a large pull off the joint. He paused, holding it in, before exhaling. "To make it easier. Otherwise we are going to forget everything."

Dean nodded, taking the joint Cas passed to him. They finished it and after making sure they had their phones and wallets, they headed out.

As they entered town, Cas spotted a diner. He pointed. "Food."

Dean chuckled. "You're so well-spoken."

Cas turned and playfully punched him on the shoulder before they went inside. A waitress saw them enter and hurried over. "Just two?" she asked.

Dean stared at her for a moment. Her hair was bright purple and pulled back into a tight ponytail. Her face was littered with metal. Dean was trying not to stare too long, but from the glances he could steal, it looked like an eyebrow ring, two lip piercings, and a small gem in her nostril. Her arms were covered in tattoos as well. There weren't many people in Kansas that looked like her. It shocked Dean at first, but he actually kind of liked it.

Cas nodded in response to her question and she led them to a booth on the left side of the building. "Can I start you guys off with anything to drink?"

"Coffee, black, please," Dean said.

"I'll have the same," Cas said absentmindedly, looking at the menu. Before she could walk away, he set it down.

"Are you ready to order, or do you need a minute?" she asked.

Cas glanced at Dean, who nodded and set his menu down as well. "I'll have a shortstack," Cas said, handing her his menu.

"Same," Dean said, handing her his as well.

She nodded. "Okay, be right back with your coffee." She paused. "Do you want me to just bring a pot?"

Dean looked at Cas who nodded at her. "That would probably be best. Thank you."

She smiled and walked off, into the kitchen.

Cas reached into one of his many pockets and pulled out a small notebook and a pen. "Okay, we have to make this list. Let's start with what we didn't get yet for the bathroom." He tapped the pen on the table, staring at the paper.

"A bath mat?" Dean supplied, remembering how he had nearly slipped stepping out of the shower earlier.

Cas jotted it down. "And more towels and washcloths," he mumbled to himself, scribbling that down as well. He stared at the page again for a moment before writing toilet paper and skipping to the next page, where he wrote _KITCHEN_.

Dean watched as the items poured out of Cas. He was listing things Dean never would've thought of, either because they were so obvious he'd never even thought about it, or because he'd never had one.

_...coffee maker, dish drain, sponges, dish soap, paper towels, tupperware containers, silverware, trash can, trash bags, microwave..._

He stopped again, tapping the pen against the table. The waitress returned with a pot of coffee and two mugs. "Here you go, guys. I'll be right back with the pancakes."

"Thank you," Cas said, not looking up.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow as he poured coffee into Cas' mug.

Cas looked up, squinting at him. "Yes, why?"

Dean shrugged, filling his own mug. "You just seem kind of... distant." He set the pot down on the table.

Cas frowned, looking back down at the list. "I'm just a little stressed. I'm still really tired and in a lot of pain, but I want to get this stuff done so we can be comfortable."

"Why don't you let me run around and get it all?" Dean offered.

Cas smiled. "Thank you, but I want us to do it together. Besides, I have to make sure you get everything, and I know you." He smirked. "You'll come back insisting we didn't need half of this shit, and that it's a waste of money."

The corner of Dean's lips lifted into a small smirk as he raised his mug to his lips. "You know me so well."

The waitress returned with their food. "Thanks," Dean said, smiling at her and setting down his mug.

"Flag me down if you need anything," she said before leaving again.

Dean poured a generous amount of syrup onto his pancakes and dug in as Cas continued to work on the list.

_FURNITURE_

_...couch, end tables, TV stand, bed and pillows, sheets and pillowcases, nightstands, dresser, desk, coffee table, curtains..._

_MISC_

_...broom, vacuum, laundry soap, cleaning supplies..._

Cas set the pen down and pushed it and the notebook aside, starting on his food. He chewed slowly, staring off past Dean, at the back of the booth seat.

Dean pulled four pills of various shapes and colors out of his jacket pocket, placing them on the clean plate his coffee mug had come with and picking a bit of pocket fuzz off them.

Cas swallowed his mouthful of food and looked down at Dean's hands. "Why did you take them out of the bottle?"

"I'm not carrying around four bottles," Dean said flatly, gathering them up and tossing them back before washing them down with a swig of coffee.

Cas just nodded, cutting through the pancakes with his fork. "I should take mine, too, or I'll be a miserable dick all day."

Dean smirked. "You're never a miserable dick. That's my job."

Cas unsuccessfully tried to stifle a laugh. He quickly shoved one last bite of pancakes into his mouth before pushing the remainder of the plate away and returning to the list.

* * *

Dean and Cas stood on the sidewalk outside of the dollar store, nearly twenty plastic bags packed with various items surrounding their feet.

"We didn't really think this through," Dean said, looking down at them. "We should've driven."

"Yeah," Cas agreed. "But it's not far. We'll go back home... again... and come back out with the car."

"We still need a lot more?" Dean asked, looking up at him.

Cas nodded slowly. "Oh yeah."

By the time they arrived home, Dean's fingers we're numb from the handles of the bags digging into them. They dropped everything on the floor and headed back out. "Where are we going?" Dean asked as the Impala roared to life.

"Furniture," Cas said. "I don't know. I've never shopped for furniture."

"Me neither," Dean mumbled.

"IKEA?" Cas pulled out his phone to google the closest one. He then entered it into his GPS and told Dean where to go.

"This place is like a fucking maze," Dean grumbled as they circled around. "Are we looking for anything in particular?"

Cas nodded. "Just basic stuff. Couch, coffee table, a _bed_. Oh, and nightstands."

They wandered around for a bit as Cas jotted down the stuff they picked. They stuck with basic, brown wooden furniture, but Cas splurged on a king size bed. The queen he'd had at his parents was enough room, sure, but they both tossed and turned enough that the extra space of a king would be well worth it.

They had offered same day delivery, but Cas declined. It was expensive and there was no point. They had to put it all together themselves, and there was no way that was getting done that night. They still had to shop for groceries. As much as Cas wanted to go to a normal grocery store, they still needed a microwave and air conditioner, so they opted for a Wal-mart. Dean heaved both of the electronics into the cart, and Cas filled the spaces around the boxes with milk, cereal, eggs, bread, some microwaveable meals, and some other small basics. They were both becoming tired of walking around unfamiliar stores in circles, looking for things on the list, getting distracted by other things they realized they needed, or just not being able to find what they needed at all.

Finally they arrived back at the house around six. Cas collapsed onto the blanket on the floor while Dean put the groceries away.

Cas was beginning to doze off when Dean entered the room, lowering himself down over Cas and gripping his shoulders, squeezing gently.

Cas emitted a groan into the pillow and Dean pressed his palms against his spine, slowly moving down in small circles. He pulled his hands away quickly when he heard a small _pop_ and Cas hissed.

"Shit, are you okay? Did I hurt you?" he asked quickly.

"It's fine," Cas replied with a groggy half-smile. "Sometimes they need to do that."

Dean hesitated before nodding and continuing cautiously. The last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt Cas. He did enough of that already, but it was something he couldn't control. He tried not to let it nag at him, but he was usually unsuccessful.

"Roll over," he said, leaning up and sliding off of him.

Cas did as instructed and Dean reached for his waist, unbuckling his belt, popping open his jeans, and lowering his zipper.

Cas smiled. "I like where this is going."

"I just..." Dean trailed off, his fingers resting on the waist of Cas' jeans. "I want to make you feel good. I..." He didn't want to ruin this with a bunch of sappy _feelings_ , but it came out anyway. "I owe you so much. You do everything for me. I was nothing without you."

Cas frowned. "You don't owe me anything, Dean. That's what people do when they love each other, they take care of each other." He paused. "And you certainly are not _nothing_. You're everything to me," he added firmly.

Dean fiddled with Cas' belt loop, staring down at the carpet. "But I don't do anything. I only take."

Cas was quiet for a moment. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," Dean replied, raising his eyes up to meet his.

"You give everything for Sam. Do you ever feel like he owes you?"

"No."

"Can you understand then, why you don't owe me anything?"

"It's different..." Dean mumbled, looking away again.

"How so?" Cas pressed.

Dean hesitated. "Sammy's my brother. Family. I'm obligated. I'm... I'm nothing special. I'm just some kid you went to school with. What if... what if you find someone better out here?" He still didn't look up.

Cas sighed. "Dean... I knew the day I met you that there was something different about you." He paused, unsure if he should say what he was thinking, but he decided to just say it anyway. "Don't think that I... haven't been with my fair share of people. But I didn't want them; I wanted you. I just... didn't think you were interested."

Dean shrugged, leaning back and letting his hand fall away from Cas' jeans. "I wasn't, at first." He glanced up to meet Cas' gaze. "But when I had to start avoiding your gaze because looking into your eyes made my knees weak..." He shook his head a little, scoffing lightly. "I knew something was up."

The corner of Cas' mouth turned up into a small smile. "And how long ago was that?"

Dean thought for a second. "A few weeks after we'd met."

Cas shook his head, laughing a little. "I was completely clueless."

"And it was super exhausting keeping it that way."

Cas just stared at him, a smile plastered on his face. "I love you."

Dean returned his smile with a smaller version. "I love you, too. Even if I fucking suck at showing it." He leaned forward and kissed him softly, placing his hand on his waist. When he pulled back, he grabbed Cas' jeans again and shimmied them down his hips.

Cas reached up and placed his fingers around Dean's wrist. Dean stopped, looking up, and their eyes met. "I don't want you to ever do anything like this out of obligation, Dean," Cas said gently.

Dean nodded. "I want to."

Cas let go of his wrist and Dean lifted his shirt, leaning forward to flick his tongue over Cas' nipple. Cas twitched, inhaling sharply, leaning his head back into the pillow and closing his eyes. Dean made his way down his abdomen to his pelvis, trailing kisses along his warm skin as he went. Cas tried to stifle a moan as he felt himself growing hard. Sliding his fingers beneath the waistband of Cas' boxers, Dean pulled them down quickly. Cas couldn't stifle the groan that escaped his lips as his erection was freed, and it swelled further.

Dean ghosted his fingertips along the length, eliciting shuddering sighs from Cas, before taking him in his hand and tugging slowly.

"Dean, wait," Cas gasped, lifting his head. "The window."

Dean stopped. "Did... did you get curtains?"

Cas nodded. "In one of the million bags."

Dean sighed, heaving himself up off the floor and disappearing into the living room. After a few minutes and some rustling, he returned to find Cas had rolled onto his side, his back to the window, and was playing with himself slowly.

Dean hurriedly threw up the curtain, not bothering to secure it properly. He jammed the corners of the fabric into the slit in the back of the curtain rod. When he backed away and it didn't fall, he hurried back to Cas and dropped to his knees.

Cas rolled back over, grinning, still tightly gripping himself. Dean wrapped his fingers around Cas', squeezing and pulling up slightly. Cas sighed and let his hand fall from beneath Dean's, and Dean took over again. Leaning forward, he flattened his tongue against the head as he worked the shaft with his fingers. Cas stretched his arms behind his head, arching his back slightly and moaning softly.

Dean quickly ducked down, enveloping all of Cas in his mouth. Cas gasped loudly, forcefully thrusting his hips upward. Dean didn't miss a beat, descending and ascending slowly, working the base with his left hand as he went.

He released Cas from his mouth momentarily, and Cas shuddered at the contrast of how cold he now was, wet and exposed. Before he could react though, Dean had taken him in his mouth again. Cas felt Dean wriggle a spit-slicked finger between him, and he spread his legs a bit to grant him access.

Dean slowly pressed his index finger in, raising his eyes to watch Cas squirm before him. He loved seeing Cas like this; _doing_ this to Cas. Cas, who was always so calm and collected, becoming puddy in his hands. He slowly pushed a second finger in, spreading them apart to open him up. He greatly enjoyed the reaction he got from Cas. In the grand scheme of things, sex wasn't much- Cas could probably find someone better, and more adventurous, in bed- but judging by the noises falling from Cas' lips, Dean felt he was pretty good at it, and it was all he could really offer anyway.

Dean leaned back, removing his fingers and letting Cas' cock fall onto his stomach. Cas whined. "Roll over again," Dean ordered.

Cas obeyed and Dean grabbed his waist, pulling up his hips. He quickly pushed two freshly-wetted fingers into him, eliciting a muffled groan from Cas into the pillow. "Dean," he breathed.

It sounded like the start of a sentence, not just mindlessly saying his name in pleasure.

"Yes?" Dean asked, two fingers splaying inside Cas, his left hand gripping his thigh.

"F- fuck me, please," Cas gasped into the pillow. He turned his head so he could breathe and be heard better. "I want you inside me. Please," he begged, his eyes shut tight.

Dean smirked. "If you insist." He pulled his hand back and quickly unfastened his pants, pushing them down and kicking them off onto the floor. Cas' heart beat rapidly in anticipation when he heard Dean spit on his dick, only hammering against his rib cage even harder when he felt the tip of Dean press up against him. He leaned back slightly and Dean took the invitation with no reservations, pushing his hips forward steadily until he was fully sheathed. He sighed heavily. " _Shit_ ," he hissed. "You feel so good, Cas." He pulled back slowly, before thrusting again quickly.

Cas gasped, but when Dean thrust again, he pushed his hips up to meet him. "Faster, Dean," he whined.

Dean picked up the pace, happy to oblige with the request. Cas buried his face into the pillow, bringing his arms up to grip either side of it tightly. Dean could just barely hear the little whines escaping from Cas, muffled through the pillow. He felt pressure building in his groin and he slowed down. "I don't want to come yet," he breathed.

"Please," Cas whined. "Just go. Don't stop."

As much as Dean wanted to hold off, he couldn't deny Cas when he begged him like that. Leaning forward, he took a handful of Cas' hair between his fingers, pulling his head off the pillow and quickly increasing his speed again.

A strangled gasp rose out of Cas' throat and he felt himself nearing orgasm. "Dean," he panted.

"Shh shh shhhh," Dean shushed him, eyes closed and head back, left hand still gripping Cas' hair, right gripping his hip.

Cas bit his lip to prevent himself from speaking further.

Dean felt his muscles begin to tighten as heat rose in his stomach. He jerked Cas' head back, spilling into him with a loud grunt. Cas finished simultaneously, a moan rising from his throat.

Dean let go of his hair, and Cas let his head drop back into the pillow. Dean withdrew slowly, moving to lay down on his stomach next to Cas. Cas let his hips sink down, letting out a content sigh and turning his head to face Dean. Dean couldn't help but smile at his mussed hair, flushed cheeks, and pink lips. "You're adorable," Dean panted. "Especially after I've fucked you." He smirked.

Cas closed his eyes and laughed, rolling forward and burying his face in the crook of Dean's neck. Dean reached his arm up and wrapped it around Cas' shoulder, pulling him in closer. He placed a kiss on the top of his head.

"Goodnight, Dean," Cas murmured.

"Night Cas."


	34. Chapter 34

Dean awoke to the sound of running water, which quickly made him realize he had to piss like a racehorse. He sprung up and noticed the blanket was... stiff. He gagged a little and headed to the bathroom, knocking on the door. "Can I come in and pee?" he yelled through the door.

"Of course!" he heard over the water. He opened the door and walked past the toilet, pulling back the curtain slightly and poking his head in.

"Hey!" Cas said, instinctively covering himself for a moment before dropping his arms back to his sides. "What are you doing?"

"You said to conserve water. You've already got it running in here," he said as he began peeing into the left side of the tub, smiling to himself at Cas' reaction.

"What the hell, man?" Cas said. "You could've just not flushed the toilet. It's only pee." He grabbed the showerhead as Dean finished and sprayed it all along the bottom of the tub. "Can you grab me a towel? I'm done anyway."

"Then what the hell were you doing in here?" Dean asked with a smirk.

"Nothing!" he said defensively. "I had just finished rinsing off."

Dean grinned and pulled his shirt, the only article of clothing he was still wearing after their romp last night, off over his head. "Uh-huh. Leave the water running, I need to shower, too." He climbed in as Cas climbed out and wrapped a towel around his waist.

"So what's the plan for today?" Dean asked loudly over the water as he lathered shampoo into his hair.

"First and foremost, breakfast," Cas responded, peering into the mirror as he shaved. "The furniture is supposed to be delivered between noon and two. Then we have to run out and get whatever tools we need to put it all together." He ran the razor along the underside of his chin.

"Sounds fun," Dean joked, rinsing his hair.

"I've heard putting IKEA furniture together is a good relationship test."

"Huh?"

"It's difficult and frustrating," Cas elaborated, turning on the water briefly to splash his face. He grabbed a hand towel from the edge of the sink, wiping the water and any remaining shaving cream off of his face.

Dean stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel, drying himself off. Cas exited to get dressed in the bedroom, freeing up the counter space for Dean to shave.

When Dean had finished getting dressed, he found Cas in the kitchen, cooking eggs on the stove. "We don't have much yet," Cas explained.

"Anything you make is always amazing, Cas. Really," Dean said, standing awkwardly a few feet behind him, as they had no chairs yet to sit at the island.

Cas scraped the eggs into two bowls, shoving a fork into each one and handing one to Dean. They stood in silence in the kitchen, Cas leaning on the counter and Dean leaning across from him on the island, eating their scrambled eggs.

"You know what," Cas said, swallowing his last bite of food and placing the bowl in the sink, "I'm going to check craigslist for some stuff." He pulled out his phone and began typing.

"What else do we still need?" Dean asked. He couldn't believe they still weren't done. He had no idea how much stuff- and money- you needed to furnish an apartment.

"A television. And a stand." He looked up at Dean. "And chairs for that island."

Dean nodded, pushing himself off the counter and walking past Cas to put his bowl into the sink.

It was already ten, so they ended up waiting for the delivery guy while Cas browsed craigslist. As they smoked in the bedroom, Cas was reminded they needed a washer and dryer by the mess on the blanket. "I'm spoiled," he said, lying on his back, phone held above his face, scrolling through listings. "I'm not lugging my shit to a laundromat."

Dean laughed. "Do we even have a hookup?"

"Yeah, right across from the bathroom door. There's a big space and a hookup behind those two bi-folding doors." He squinted at his phone.

"Awesome," Dean said.

They'd just finished a second joint when the doorbell rang. Cas jumped up to answer it, Dean trailing behind. Cas opened the door to reveal a tall man with shaggy blonde hair standing on the doorstep. He had dark green eyes, a day or so's stubble, and was wearing gray Dickies pants and a matching work shirt. "Mr. Novak?" he asked, looking up from his clipboard.

Cas nodded.

"Delivery, can you sign please?" He handed the clipboard and a pen to Cas, who signed _Castiel J Novak_ at the bottom.

"I'm Rich. Where do you want everything?" the man asked.

"Living room is fine, thank you," Cas said. "Do you need help?"

"That would be great, thanks. My co-worker called out today. Just don't hurt yourself and sue us," he joked as he turned to walk back to the truck that was parked in the driveway behind the Impala.

Cas smiled. "Of course not." He turned to Dean and nodded his head in the direction of the truck, and they followed him out.

Once they had brought all the boxes in, Rich looked around. The boxes they had unloaded were the only things in the room. "You guys got nothing, huh?"

"We just moved here," Cas explained.

"Yeah? Where from?" he asked.

"Kansas," Dean replied.

"What brings you guys over here?"

"School," Cas said.

Rich nodded. He glanced around the living room again. "Is there anything you guys still need?" He paused, unsure if was overstepping his boundaries as both someone on the clock, and a complete stranger. He decided to continue. "My cousin has a farm out in Sunol, he has all kinds of crap in pretty good shape. He's kind of a hoarder. Hates to see stuff fall apart or be thrown away if someone could be using it. He holds onto it until he finds someone willing to buy it."

"We do actually need quite a few more things..." Cas trailed off. "Like a washer and dryer... and a TV stand. I was just on craigslist but didn't find much."

"He's got all that shit," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets and rocking back on his heels. "You sure aren't fitting it in that car out there though."

Cas frowned. "Yeah."

"If you can throw me some gas money, I can take you up there in my pickup." He paused. "Load up whatever you want."

"That would be great," Cas said with a smile. "Thank you for offering."

"Yeah, no problem. He needs to get some of that stuff gone," he laughed. "I get off at five, I guess I'll pick you two up here?"

Cas nodded. "That's fine. Thanks again, we really appreciate it."

"No worries," he said as he moved towards the door. He grabbed the door handle and gave a quick wave. "I gotta get going though. See ya later." He slipped out the door, closing it behind him.

Dean turned to Cas with a raised eyebrow. "Okay, what the fuck? Why is everybody we've met been so nice?"

Cas shrugged. "We've only been here for three days. But maybe Kansas is just filled with douchebags."

Dean scoffed. "Apparently."

Cas pulled out his phone to check the time. "So, it's only one. Let's check out these instructions and go get the tools we need."

They opened all the boxes, pulling out the instructions packets. Cas made a list of what they needed and they made a quick run to Home Depot. It took them a minute to find what they needed, as neither of them had ever stepped foot into a hardware store, but eventually they located everything and headed back home. It was now two o'clock and they had to get a move on putting the furniture together. Dean helped Cas install the air conditioner into the bedroom window to cool down the house before they began assembling furniture.

Cas had insisted on putting the bed together first. He'd said if he had to sleep on the floor one more night, he felt like his spine would crumble. Dean laughed, but he felt bad for Cas. It took them about forty-five minutes, but they got it put together and placed the box spring and mattress on top.

They then moved on to the couch. It took about the same amount of time. It was almost four, and they only had the coffee table and two nightstands left to put together. They spent another half an hour putting together the two nightstands. Cas then dropped his screwdriver onto the floor, plopping back onto the couch.

"Well it didn't collapse into a pile, so I guess we put it together right," he laughed.

"I'll be the judge of that," Dean said as he plopped down to his right. The couch squeaked but didn't budge. "Sweet." He lifted his arm up to rest it along the back of the couch.

Cas looked over at him. "We did good. The furniture is assembled, and we didn't kill each other." He flashed Dean a wide smile.

Dean laughed, leaning in to press their lips together before letting himself slide down into Cas' lap. He laid there as Cas carded his fingers through his hair, his head back on the couch and eyes closed. They were just drifting off into sleep when the doorbell rang.


	35. Chapter 35

Dean jumped, nearly falling off the couch. "Fuck," he grumbled, pushing himself off the couch and rubbing his eyes.

Cas got up and shuffled to the door, unlocking the bolt lock and opening it. "Hey," he said with a smile.

"Hey," Rich said. He was wearing black high-top converse, blue jeans, and a Queers shirt layered underneath an open button-up Dickies workshirt. Noticing Dean walking away from the couch, hair a mess and looking out of it, he asked, "Did I interrupt something?"

Cas turned to glance at Dean, who was oblivious to the conversation as he walked into the kitchen to make himself some coffee. "No," he laughed. "We passed out on the couch." He paused before adding, "We've only been here for a few days, so we're pretty exhausted from trying to get everything together." Rich nodded. "Um, you can come in for a minute," Cas said, stepping out of the doorway. Rich brushed past and Cas closed the door behind him. "Coffee?" he asked.

"Sure, thanks." He moved over to the couch as Cas walked up behind Dean, who was blowing on his coffee to try and lower it to a reasonable drinking temperature. "You guys got this stuff put together already?" Rich paused as he dropped down onto the couch. "Takes most people _forever_."

Cas laughed. "I'm pretty good with instructions, I guess. How do you take your coffee?"

"A splash of whatever you've got, milk, cream, whatever, and a spoon of sugar."

Cas made the coffee as requested and brought it over to Rich, stirring it and leaving the spoon in the mug.

"Thank you," Rich said. He took a small sip. "You made it perfect."

"So how far is this place?" Cas asked, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch.

"'Bout an hour," he replied, now taking large gulps of his coffee.

Cas reached into his pocket, fishing out two twenties and holding them out to him. "Is this enough for gas? I also wanted to tip you for the delivery."

Rich's eyes widened a little and he nodded slowly. "Yeah, that's plenty. Most people don't tip me at all." He took the money Cas was offering, shoving it into the pocket of his jeans and shooting Cas a smile. "Thanks."

Cas hesitated before asking, "You smoke?"

Rich furrowed his brows over his mug and nodded slightly as he sipped his coffee, shocked Cas even had to ask. This was California, after all. Nearly everybody smoked; it was usually just assumed.

Cas turned towards the kitchen, standing up. "Dean, come smoke."

Dean shuffled over to the couch as Cas disappeared into the hallway. He sat where Cas had been, and when Cas returned with the weed and the bowl, he sat between them. He broke up a nug on the box the coffee table was in, scooping it up and sprinkling it into the bowl. They smoked it quickly, and Cas packed two more, before they stood up to leave.

Cas locked up the front door and turned around. Behind the Impala sat a beat up red pickup truck. As they got closer, Rich said, "There isn't much room in the front. It's technically a three-seater but it's a pretty tight squeeze, so... sorry about that. Lucky for you though, I showered before I came over," he chuckled, yanking on the door handle to the drivers side and climbing in.

Cas opened the passengers side, climbing up and sliding over. Dean followed, and Cas had to slide over further to give him room to close the door, his thighs squished between his and Rich's.

"Can we smoke in here?" Dean asked as Rich started the truck and pulled out of the driveway.

"Yep, she's a beater. Not that it matters, I smoke too," he added, reaching into the chest pocket of his shirt and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He lit it and passed the lighter to Cas, who lit one of his own before passing it to Dean.

"So," Rich said after a few minutes of them smoking in silence. "What are you going to school for?"

"Dental hygienist," Cas replied flatly. "Not exactly my calling, but it's a two year degree and pays decent enough. Work can be found anywhere. I figure it's a good fall-back job until I figure out what I want to actually _do_ with my life."

"Yeah, delivering for a Swedish furniture company isn't exactly my calling, either," Rich chuckled. "But I had to quit school after a year because my dad got sick. So now I pay the bills."

"I'm sorry," Cas said.

He shrugged. "Shit happens, right?"

"Right," Dean said from the other side of the cab.

"What about you?" Rich asked, glancing at him quickly, unsure how to feel about Dean's comment. He couldn't read this kid.

"What about _me_?" Dean repeated his question, turning from the window, caught off guard by his interest.

"Yeah, why did you move here? Are you going to school here too?"

Dean let out a small laugh, turning to look back out the window. "Nah. I'm just along for the ride. School isn't exactly my thing." He couldn't go to college even if he'd wanted to, seeing as he hadn't finished high school.

Rich nodded, keeping his gaze on the road. He reached down and turned on the radio, and Tom Petty's "Yer So Bad" began to play, somewhere a little less than half-way through.

They were quiet for a moment, Dean mumbling the song under his breath. "You like Tom Petty?" Rich asked, looking over at him. Dean nodded. "The best classic rock stations around here are 98.5 and 107.7," he said. "Although I prefer 98.5. That's what this is."

"Cool, thanks," Dean said, nodding again.

Rich and Cas talked for a little while about the area. What there was to see, do, eat, et cetera. Dean stared out the window as they drove over the San Francisco - Oakland Bay Bridge. He'd never seen so much water- it had been dark when they arrived in California a few days earlier.

As they continued down the interstate, buildings and manicured lawns turned into dirt and fields. "How far are we?" Dean asked. " _Where_ are we?"

"We're in Dublin. About twenty-five minutes away."

Another fifteen minutes passed by and they were in another town. "Pleasanton," Rich said in response to their confused gazes out the window. "Ten minutes."

Finally Rich put on his blinker and turned left onto a dirt road. About a mile down they could see a red barn contrasted against the darkening sky. As they got closer, Cas breathed out, "You weren't kidding about him having a lot of stuff."

Dean's eyes lit up at the collection of classic cars in the dirt lot. As soon as the truck rolled to a stop, he clambered out, hurrying over to a 1977 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am, it's paint peeling and tires sinking into the dirt. He ran a hand over the roof, peering in the window. "You shouldn't be wasting away here, beautiful," he whispered.

Cas chuckled and shook his head.

"He into cars, huh?" Rich asked, holding his cell phone up to his ear.

Cas nodded. "Yep."

"Hey," Rich said into the phone. "We're outside." He hung up.

Within seconds a burly man, about 5'6", wearing overalls over a red plain shirt and work boots, appeared from around the back of the building. "Richard!" he bellowed as he closed in on them. "'Bout time you showed your face 'round here!"

"I've got you some customers, Tom. You need to get rid of some of this stuff," Rich said, as Tom embraced him in a tight hug.

Tom patted his back before pulling away. "Yeah, yeah, it'll go when it's good and ready." He turned to Dean and Cas. "What are you two boys looking for?"

"Well, kind of a little bit of everything," Cas responded. "We just moved here and don't have much... We bought some furniture but we need a TV stand, and a washer and dryer."

"You've come to the right place!" Tom said. "I'm Tom by the way," he said, extending his hand.

Cas took it, startled by the strength of the man's grip. "Cas."

Tom turned to Dean to shake his hand as well. Dean gripped it tight. "Dean."

"Follow me," Tom said, turning and walking back towards where he had appeared from when they arrived. As they rounded the corner, Dean stopped in his tracks at the field of marijuana plants splayed before him.

"Like those?" Rich asked with a smile. He looked over at Cas, who met his gaze. "Just one of the perks of California livin'." He winked.

"Damn," Dean breathed, staring at the plants.

"I guess we know where to get our weed," Cas said with a nervous laugh, caught off guard by Rich's wink.

"That's right!" Tom said. "I grow the best shit around. Don't you doubt it for a second."

He turned a corner into the barn, and as Dean and Cas followed, they were met with what looked like, at first glance, junk, as far as the eye could see- ride on lawnmowers, tractors, washing machines, and a few dirtbikes and motorcycles.

"Told ya he's a hoarder," Rich muttered.

"Shuddap," Tom snapped. "Alright boys, I've got a nice washer and dryer here some rich couple was gettin' rid of 'cause they upgraded. They throw away perfectly good shit, I swear. Such a waste."

"Tom's a vigilante superhero for abandoned inanimate objects. He rescues them like a damsel in distress and fixes them up, promises someone's gonna treat 'em right," Rich snickered. "Whispers it to 'em as he fusses with their nuts and bolts."

Tom huffed a sigh and rolled his eyes, ignoring his cousin.

"How much do you want for them?" Cas asked. "They look brand new."

Tom shrugged. "I'd usually ask $250 for the set but you boys said you're looking for more stuff, so why don't you finish looking around and we'll add it up after, hmm? This is all machines... Next room over," he jerked his thumb to the left, where a large opening led to another barn, "is furniture."

Dean and Cas nodded and wandered off into the other room.

Tom turned to Rich as Dean and Cas disappeared into the next room. "Where'd you find those two?"

"Ordered a bunch of furniture from work, but not nearly enough. I don't think they've ever lived on their own. They look young as hell."

"Where are they from?"

"Kansas."

"Oh, god. You better keep an eye on those boys," Tom chuckled. "Don't let SanFran eat them alive. They don't even look twenty."

Rich scoffed and waved his hand dismissively. "They'll be fine. The short one is super nice, he tipped me for the delivery... and smoked me up." He felt his face growing warm.

Tom noticed instantly and cracked a smile. "Ah ah ah," he scolded, waggling his finger at him. "You leave that boy alone. Don't be a homewrecker."

Rich's eyes darted over to the door of the other barn, then back to his cousin. "I don't think they're together. They don't act like it."

"Not everybody sucks face in public like you do, _Dick_ ," Tom said flatly.

"Ugh." Rich rolled his eyes and shuddered. "Don't call me that."

"Especially where they're from. I know you grew up here, but the rest of the country isn't as... progressive." He paused before changing the subject. "How's Uncle Craig?"

Rich shrugged. "No better, no worse."

Tom stared at him hard for a moment before asking, "When are you going to get him to come stay here so you can get back to your life, Rich?"

Rich frowned, blinking slowly at his cousin. "You know he doesn't want to leave the city. He's convinced with how sick he is, he'll be isolated out here and _'wither away and die in some dusty old barn'_..." He paused. "His words."

Tom rolled his eyes. "I need to get out there and talk to him."

They heard voices behind them and turned to see Dean and Cas returning.

"Find anything you like?" Tom asked.

"Yes," Cas said, smiling. He showed them what they were interested in. A large bookshelf, a decent size TV stand, and a set of four tall wooden chairs Dean had pointed out would be good for the island, which was going to be doubling as their kitchen table. Cas had also found a painting he liked. It was a dog, on a bed covered with a white comforter. He was napping in the afternoon sun that was pouring in through the window above the bed.

Tom rubbed his chin for a moment. "How about... three for everything?"

"Are you- really?" Cas said, squinting at Tom.

Tom nodded. "Yep. You seem like nice kids. It's hard out here, and I don't want this stuff just sitting in here anymore. That's the whole reason I took it in the first place. I want someone to get some use out of it."

Cas smiled and let out a small laugh. "Wow, thank you. I have to say, everyone out here has been really nice. It's quite refreshing after our interactions in Kansas."

Tom smiled and reached forward, patting him on the shoulder. He turned to Rich. "Let's get all their purchases in the truck." He started to walk off.

"Wait," Dean said. "Let me help."

"Go for it," Tom said, gesturing towards the other half of the barn. "Help the boy, Rich." As they disappeared into the other room, he turned back to Cas. "Would you like to see the plants?"

Cas' eyes lit up. "Yes, please." He followed Tom out of the barn and to the edge of the field.

"Wow," Cas said as he leaned over to inspect them. He turned to Tom. "How can I do this?"

"Grow?" Tom laughed. "I can teach you," he said. "But you have to be twenty-one to grow your own."

Cas frowned, turning back to the plants and squinting at the buds. Tom smiled to himself. He knew these kids were young. Not even twenty-one.

"I want to grow a strain for pain relief," Cas said slowly. "It's gotta be strong though... I have a prescription, but... I hate taking them." He paused. "I hate pills."

Tom smiled warmly. "Smart boy."

"Let me pay you," Cas said, straightening up and wincing slightly as a jolt of pain shot out across his shoulder from his spine. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. "Actually... do you have any I could buy now by any chance?"

"I do," Tom nodded.

"How much for an ounce?"

"One hundred."

"You're kidding," Cas scoffed, squinting at him.

"No, I'm not." He waved his hand towards the field of plants. "Do I look like I'm running out any time soon?"

Cas hesitated. "O- okay... Here. I really appreciate you and Rich helping us out." He extended his hand out, holding three hundred dollar bills and two fifties.

"Not a problem," he said, taking it. "Why don't you go check on Rich and your friend and I'll go get your bag."

Cas nodded, starting to walk back over to the truck. Dean and Rich had already loaded in the bookcase and TV stand, and were lifting up the dryer. "Do you need help?" he asked.

"You can grab those chairs from the barn," Dean said, jumping down off the tailgate. His flannel flapped up as he descended and little clouds of dust kicked up from his boots when he landed. Cas looked away, turning pink. Luckily it was now nightfall, so it likely went unnoticed by present company, but damn, even after nearly a year, Dean just existing still gave him butterflies. He scurried off into the barn to grab two of the chairs. When he returned, Rich and Dean were grunting and groaning as they lifted the washing machine into the bed of the truck. Cas set the chairs down and left to retrieve the remaining two.

"Alright Tom," Rich breathed as Tom came around the corner, "I'll call you, okay?"

Tom nodded and Cas re-appeared with the chairs, setting them down. Rich tossed them in the truck and began strapping everything down.

Tom held out a ziploc bag to Cas, who took it and looked at it intently. "This is more than an ounce."

"My mistake, give it back then." Cas looked up and Tom was grinning. "Kidding. You think I didn't weigh it? Come on now, kid."

Cas smiled. "Thank you. It was very nice to meet you, Tom." He turned and climbed into the truck, and Dean propped one foot up before turning to Tom.

He gave him a small wave. "Thanks again, man." He pulled himself up into the cab of the truck, closing the door behind him.

Tom nodded and Rich stuck his arm out the window to wave before pressing his foot on the gas. The car lurched forward and they bounced down the dirt road.

"Your cousin's a nice guy," Dean said gruffly, his arm hanging out the window with a cigarette in hand as he stared off at the dark fields. "Why are you all so nice out here?"

Rich shrugged. "It just works for us, I guess."

"Where we're from, you're nice and you get fucked." He took a drag off his cigarette.

Cas frowned and nodded. "It's true." The car was quiet for a moment until Cas spoke up. "Do you guys want to smoke? I bought a bag from Tom."

Rich laughed. "You might want to wait to smoke that, it'll probably knock you out."

"You think so?" Cas asked.

Rich nodded. "Yep." He reached down and turned on the radio. The Rolling Stones crackled through the speakers and he turned it up.

The ride was mostly quiet, and they arrived back at the house sooner than expected. When they finished unloading the furniture into the living room, Rich even helping Dean hook up the washer and dryer, Cas asked if he would like to stay for dinner.

Rich was standing in the living room, hands shoved in his pockets. Dean was pouring a box of pasta into a pot that was boiling on the stove. Rich's stomach growled, but he had to get back home to his father. Dinner needed to be cooked, meds needed to be given, chores needed to be done. "I would love to," he said slowly. He would like nothing more than to have dinner with Cas. "But I have to get home." He frowned.

Cas nodded.

"Um, maybe I could get your number," he said cautiously. "If you ever wanna hang out."

"Yeah, sure," Cas said, pulling out his phone. "What's yours? I'll call you."

Rich rattled off his digits and Cas dialed them into his phone. Rich's phone rang from his pocket and he nodded at Cas. "Alright. I'll hit you up on my next day off if that's cool."

Cas hung up his phone and shoved it back into his pocket. "Sounds good. We'll be around, school doesn't start until next month."

"Alright, cool," Rich said, moving towards the door. "Bye, Dean," he called over his shoulder. Cas walked him out, closing the door behind him as Dean stirred the pasta on the stove and waved with his free hand.

"Thanks again," Cas said, smiling warmly. "You've been very helpful."

Rich smiled nervously. "I try to be. It was nice to meet you."

"You too," Cas said back, too tired and oblivious to notice Rich's nervous gestures. Biting his lip, fiddling with his fingers, looking down. He lifted his hand and forearm in a small, awkward wave, before lifting it the rest of the way and rubbing the back of his neck.

"Have a good night."

"You, too," Cas repeated as Rich walked back to his truck. He went back inside, where Dean was draining the pasta.

"Do you want me to finish?" Cas asked, coming up behind him.

Dean shook his head. "No, I got it. Why don't you throw our sheets and shit in the wash?"

Cas' eyes widened. "Yes, good idea." He hurried off to gather their new sheets and pillowcases from the bags, and one of the comforters from the room. Dean smiled to himself as he heard the water kick on around the corner and the washer begin to fill. "It works!" Cas yelled excitedly.

"Come eat!" Dean called, setting two bowls on the kitchen island. As Cas entered, Dean was carrying two of the new chairs over to the counter. They sat down and began to eat.

"It's good, Dean, thank you," Cas complimented through a mouthful of pasta.

"You don't have to thank me," Dean said quickly. He paused for a moment before asking, "Would you like me to rub your back before we go to bed? I've noticed you wincing all day," he added quietly.

Cas stared at him. "Yes. That would be nice."

They finished eating and Cas threw the sheets and pillowcases into the dryer. They would dry faster without the comforter. They showered together, too exhausted to fool around, and sat down on the couch, Cas in only boxers and Dean in boxers and a tee shirt. Cas rolled a joint, again using the box for the un-assembled coffee table as a table. As he lit it, Dean leaned back against the arm of the couch. Cas pushed himself between Dean's legs, laying down on his chest. They smoked and talked about the plants at Tom's farm.

"He said he would teach me to grow."

Dean straightened up a little. "That would be cool."

Cas nodded. "Hell yeah it would be. I've always wanted to grow my own." He stood up and walked off into the hallway. Dean heard the dryer slam as Cas took out the sheets and put in the comforter. He saw him pass by, sheets in hand, and go into the bedroom.

As Cas shook out the sheet to put it on the bed, Dean came up behind him. "Let me," he said.

Cas handed him the sheet and stepped back. Dean tucked it in before sitting on the edge and putting the pillowcases on the new pillows. He laid back, yanked off his shirt and boxers, and sighed. "Oh my god. New bed, clean sheets, and freshly showered. I feel like I'm floating on a cloud."

Cas dropped his boxers as well and joined him. He curled up on his side, face nestled into Dean's arm. Dean rolled onto his side to face Cas, wrapping an arm around him. They laid still for a while, until Dean opened his eyes and realized they had fallen asleep. He pushed himself away from Cas and off the bed, grabbing the blanket out of the dryer. He threw it over the bed, covering Cas, who shifted and sighed.

Dean hit the light and climbed underneath, snuggling up to Cas again and drifting back into sleep.


	36. Chapter 36

A few days went by before the house started to actually look lived-in. Dean had hung Cas' painting over the bed, Cas had folded all the towels and sheets and stowed them away in the linen closet, pots and pans and dishes were in the cabinet, and the windows _all_ had curtains.

Besides setting up the house and making another grocery run, they hadn't done much. Cas had spent a lot of time on his computer, after having cable and internet hooked up, of course; changing the info for Dean's car insurance and registration, getting their licenses and addresses switched over, and finishing up some last-minute stuff for school, which was only four weeks away.

A full week had passed before Cas' phone pinged with a text from Rich.

_'hey! sorry i haven't contacted you. someone quit at work and i've been taking the extra shifts for the money. do you guys still want to hang out? i know it's short notice but i'm off today'_

"Rich just texted me," Cas said. They were sitting on the couch, hitting the bong and watching Spongebob re-runs.

"What did he say?" Dean asked, setting the bong down on the coffee table and picking up his glass of soda. He didn't take his eyes off the TV, where Spongebob and Patrick were shaving Sandy as she slept.

"He said he's off tonight if we would like to hang out." Dean was quiet. "Should I say yes?"

"Why not?" Dean replied, glancing over at him.

"You don't seem interested," he answered, frowning.

"It's not that," Dean said, turning back to the TV.

Cas wasn't sure what Dean meant, but he texted Rich back. _'Hey! Sure, sounds good. Do you want to come here, or do you want to go somewhere?'_

They texted back and forth for a bit. "He said we should go to a bar," Cas finally said.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Does he know we're not twenty-one?"

"I told him that." He paused. "He said he knows the people that work there."

Dean frowned. "I dunno... Being kicked out of a bar for being underage in front of a bunch of people doesn't sound too fun."

Cas frowned too. "You don't want to go?"

Dean hesitated. "Not really... But if you want to go, I want you to." He grabbed the bong off the table and took another hit. "You can report back to me how it went." He exhaled a cloud of smoke. "Maybe I'll tag along next time."

Cas nodded and texted Rich back. _'Dean said he doesnt want to go. But I'm in'_

_'pick you up at 8?'_

* * *

When Rich arrived, Cas invited him in to smoke first. He was wearing a plaid, dark green, button-up flannel and dark jeans. Cas had settled on his usual attire- his white shirt, tie, slacks, and trench coat- figuring it would help his whole "looking older" case.

As they smoked, Rich told them about his coworker flipping out on their boss and quitting on the spot earlier in the week, and how he'd taken as many of the shifts as he could because the price of his father's medication had gone up. As they stood up to leave, Rich looked down at Dean. "Are you sure you don't want to come?"

Dean shook his head. He was slouched back on the couch, his foot propped up on the edge of the coffee table. "I'm good. I'm going to do some laundry and shit." He tossed the lighter he was holding onto the coffee table. "Probably play some guitar. You guys have fun."

"Alright, see you later," Rich said as he headed for the door.

"I'll meet you outside," Cas said to Rich, who nodded and closed the door behind him. "You okay?" Cas asked Dean, moving to stand behind the couch where he was sitting.

Dean let his head fall back, looking up at Cas. "Yeah," he said. "I'm just not feelin' it."

Cas nodded slowly before bending down to kiss him. "I'll text you."

Dean nodded and Cas left, locking the door behind him.

"So you're sure they will let me in?" Cas asked as Rich pulled out of the driveway. "I don't need to drink or anything. I just want to get out and meet some people. You're the only one Dean and I have met so far."

Rich nodded. "Yeah, it's no problem. He'll let you in." He paused. "It's nothing fancy, kind of a dive bar. But I know most of the people there."

They pulled up to a small building nestled between two larger ones. It was just beginning to get dark, and the glow of the neon signs in the window lit up the sidewalk. When they entered, Rich caught the eye of the bartender, who nodded at him. Rich stopped in the center of the room, looking around for a moment, before moving towards a booth with two girls.

"Rich!" one girl said excitedly. "Finally a night off?" She had long brown hair, pulled back in a loose ponytail, and large green eyes. She was wearing a blue tank top and pink knee-length skirt. She lifted the glass in her hands to her lips, her eyes flicking to Cas.

Rich nodded, taking a seat next to the girl opposite her. She had short blonde hair, a nose ring, and brown eyes framed with heavy black eyeliner. A worn leather jacket covered her upper half, a plain white shirt beneath, and Cas couldn't see below her waist. She also was nursing a drink.

"Cas, this is Jen," Rich said, motioning to the brunette across from him, "and this is Brit." He put his arm around the leather-clad shoulder of the blonde, pulling her close before she playfully broke free from his grip with a smirk.

"It's nice to meet you both," he said, sliding into the booth next to Jen. "I'm Castiel."

"Cas just moved here," Rich said. "Like, what, a week ago?" he asked, glancing to Cas for confirmation.

Cas nodded.

"That's cool," Brit said. "I bet you'll like it. Most everyone likes it here."

"I certainly hope so," Cas said. "But I think I will."

Rich stood up quickly. "Cas, would you like a drink?"

Cas looked up at him in surprise. "Um, yeah, if you could get me one, sure."

"What do you like?"

Cas shrugged. "Beer is fine."

Rich left the table to talk to his friend behind the bar and get their drinks.

"So..." Brit started, eyeing Cas up and down. "How old are you?"

Cas hesitated before answering, "Nineteen."

"Nineteen?" Jen gasped.

"How old do you think Rich is?" Brit pressed.

Cas shrugged. "I hadn't really thought about it." He paused. "Why, how old is he?"

"Twenty-five," Brit muttered, snickering.

Cas nodded slowly. "I had no idea." He paused for a moment. "What about you two?"

"I'm twenty-one," Jen said quickly.

"Twenty-two," Brit said, gulping down the last of her drink.

Cas nodded again and an awkward silence fell over them. Jen broke it. "So... where are you from?"

"Kansas," Cas said quietly.

"Never been there," Brit said.

"I'm not surprised," Cas said back. "It's not much to see."

Rich returned with four bottles of beer, setting two down in front of Cas and rejoining Brit, setting his own down in front of him.

"I'm actually from New York," Brit said. "Brooklyn. Parents moved here when I was thirteen." She smirked. "Said I was getting into too much trouble, although that wasn't hard to find here, either. I just got better at hiding it."

"I've never left California," Jen said sheepishly, seemingly embarrassed about her lack of travel experience.

"I'm actually not _from_ Kansas," Cas said hesitantly. "My parents moved to Kansas when I was around the same age. I can't remember exactly."

"So why are you here?" Brit asked.

"School," Rich said quickly. "I'm sure he's getting tired of the same questions, though, hmm?" he said, shooting Cas a smile and taking a swig of his beer.

Cas smiled nervously, forgetting he had his own beer to drink. He brought one hand up from where they were fiddling on his lap under the table, to grab his bottle and bring it to his lips.

The conversation became a bit more relaxed as Rich, Brit, and Jen talked about other things that didn't involve Cas. Cas sat quietly, listening, learning about their lives and personalities, sometimes offering a comment on the conversation. Jen seemed pretty quiet, much like Cas. Once or twice he noticed her stealing glances at him, but mostly she and Brit seemed to both be texting someone as they talked. Brit was definitely not quiet. In fact, she seemed to be the opposite of Jen. She was outspoken and loud and fun and she had a deep, sincere laugh that Cas loved.

When eleven o'clock rolled around, Cas was four beers and one shot of whiskey in. Rich himself had only had his two beers, as he planned on driving.

After checking her phone a few times, Brit cleared her throat. "So Cas, are you single?"

Cas' eyes widened and he opened his mouth, but she continued before he could respond. "I'm only asking because if you are looking, I have plenty of friends I could set you up with. My one friend, she's a sucker for blue eyes." She grinned mischievously.

Jen was fiddling with her phone, avoiding the conversation, but Cas didn't notice. "Umm..." he started, the alcohol making his head slightly foggy. "I'm actually not, y'know... into girls."

"I see," Brit said, taking a drink from her glass as Jen shoved her phone into her pocket and stared at Brit, huffing a small sigh. "I have guy friends too, y'know." She kicked Rich under the table, and he jumped slightly before covering it with a forced smile.

"I- I appreciate the offer..." Cas said slowly, "But I'm with someone."

Rich could feel his heart sink, and beneath the table, Brit squeezed his thigh apologetically. Her plan to figure out Cas' preference and relationship status had succeeded, but not with the results she had hoped for.

"Are you, um... with Dean?" Rich asked, gripping his bottle with both hands and peering up across the table at Cas.

Cas tilted his head. "Yes, I... I'm sorry, I thought you knew that."

Rich shrugged, his gaze falling down to the table. "It's all good. I was just wondering."

The table was silent for a moment, Cas' head swimming, before he asked, "Does that change anything?" He paused. "Fuck, was... was this supposed to be a date?" he mumbled, feeling his face growing hot.

"No," Rich said quickly.

"I must have mis- misunderstood your intentions," Cas continued, looking down at the table, unsure of what to think- not that he could do much thinking anyway.

"No, Cas, not at all," Rich said quietly.

"This is super awkward," Jen mumbled.

"No, it's not. It's fine," Rich said, tilting his head back and finishing his beer. "Why would it be awkward?" He stood up quickly. "I'll be right back."

As he walked off towards the bar, Cas stared across the table at the empty half of the bench seat, lost in thought, trying to process what just happened.

"Sorry," Brit said quietly, the first time she could be described as _quiet_ all night. "I didn't mean to make things awkward."

"It's not your fault," Cas said slowly, trying to properly form his words while drunk. "I just- I didn't think-" He stopped. "I don't know what I thought."

Brit shrugged. "Don't sweat it, either of you." She leaned forward, crossing her arms on the table and leaning on her elbows. "Misunderstanding."

Cas nodded slowly and she leaned back into her seat as Rich returned with a half-empty bottle of whiskey and four shot glasses. He set the glasses down in the center of the table and filled all four. "Here," he said, motioning to them and speaking to the whole table. "Drink." He quickly picked one up, knocking it back and refilling it.

"Easy," Brit said to Rich, picking hers up and nodding to Cas. He picked one up as well and she held hers out to toast. "Here's to awkward first meetings, the best kind of stories," she said with a grin. Jen picked up a shot glass as well, clinking it to theirs. As Rich pulled his back and drank it, Jen set hers down, saying she had to leave soon. Rich quickly grabbed hers and tossed it back.

"Jesus, Rich," Jen mumbled. "Didn't you drive here?"

Rich rubbed his eyes. "Shit, right." He wearily looked at Cas, his face a mixture of embarrassment and disappointment. "It's not a far walk, but if you don't feel like walking we can take a cab later."

"Walking is fine," Cas said quietly.

It was now eleven-thirty and Jen excused herself, saying she needed to sleep before work tomorrow. Brit hung around a little longer, giving Rich shit for how quickly he was drinking, but she didn't say anything to Cas, who was clearly quite buzzed _before_ Rich brought over the bottle, but had continued drinking with him.

She checked her watch and saw it was midnight. "I gotta go, guys. Sitter needs to leave soon."

"You have kids?" Cas blurted out, squinting at her.

She laughed. "Hell no. He's my sisters. I'm watching him for the week, but I needed a damn night away. I don't have kids for a reason." She chuckled. "It was nice to meet you," she said, sliding out of the booth after Rich. Rich sat back down and she gave them a quick wave before heading for the door.

Cas tapped his fingers on his shot glass, which was full. "I'm s- sorry I made things w... weird," he slurred, looking at the table.

"You didn't," Rich said. "It happens. Let's jus' forget about it, yeah?"

Cas nodded, lifting the glass to his lips and tilting his head back.


	37. Chapter 37

Dean had done the laundry, he'd smoked a joint, he'd made himself food (too much, in his opinion), and it was only eleven. He glanced at his phone, wondering when Cas would be home. He hadn't even texted him yet. He walked into the bedroom, grabbing the guitar out of the corner of the room and sitting down on the bed. He fooled around with some chords for a while, not really committing to one song in particular. He couldn't concentrate, he was bored, and there was no liquor in the house. Nothing but Cas' pills, but he had swore he would _never_ take those from Cas, no matter what, and a bored lonely night while Cas was off with another guy wasn't even a good reason to begin with.

He set the guitar back down, trying not to think about what Cas and Rich were doing. He should've went. But he knew if they were kicked out, the embarrassment of their first outing turning sour would ruin this new place for him. He tried looking for anything else to do around the house, but there was nothing to unpack, and all the furniture was put together and where it should be. He found some dishes to wash, but it didn't even kill ten minutes. He flopped onto the couch, turning on the TV and lighting a cigarette.

His hand wandered down into his jeans, but it was halfhearted. After a few lazy strokes, he ended up losing interest and falling asleep on the couch.

* * *

"I should prolly get home," Cas said slowly, his tongue tripping over his words. "It's almos' one."

Rich nodded. "You said you w- wanna walk?"

Cas nodded. Rich stood up, stumbling a little before grabbing Cas' elbow and helping him up, as he was having trouble as well. They stood for a minute to re-adjust, hands gripping opposite sides of the booth.

The night air was cool on Castiel's skin, and he hadn't realized until then that he'd been sweating slightly. He lit a cigarette as they slowly meandered down the sidewalk, stumbling a little where the edges of the blocks of cement were no longer flush with each other. Rich lit a cigarette as well and they were quiet for a while.

About half-way back to Cas' house, Rich started slowing down before coming to a stop, hand on his stomach.

"You okay?" Cas asked, turning to him and swaying slightly.

Rich didn't acknowledge him, as if he hadn't heard him. Suddenly he turned, nearly tripping but only taking a step forward, and vomiting behind a bush.

"Oh, _fuck_ , are you o- okay?" Cas gasped, squinting at Rich.

"I am now," he said with a loud drunken laugh, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and continuing on.

Cas trailed behind. It seemed to take forever, but they finally arrived on his street. "Hold up, I gotta- I gotta call a cab. To pick me up," he said, stopping in his tracks. "At your house."

"You don't want to come in and smoke?"

Rich wanted to jump up and down at the fact that this kid still wanted to hang out with him after the disaster at the bar. But he had to decline. "No, no, Dean's prolly sleepin', and I should really get home... in case my dad needs anythin'," he said somberly.

Cas nodded. Rich finally correctly dialed a cab company, giving them the address, which he had to repeat a few times because of his slurred speech. They continued on, and Cas stood with him in the driveway, as the cab was supposed to be there momentarily. It arrived soon after, and Rich opened the door, turning to Cas. "It was nice spendin' time with ya, Cas. I hope we can do it again soon... n Dean can join."

He smiled and Cas smiled back. "Yeah, course. Thanks for the drinks."

Rich nodded and plopped down into the backseat, slamming the door. The cab drove off and Cas turned and stumbled up the driveway.

Dean awoke with a start to the sound of the front door slamming open. His hands were no longer in his pants, but his button and fly were undone. He quickly yanked up his fly before turning to see if Cas had brought Rich back with him.

It was apparent he hadn't when he again flung the door shut behind him, stumbling over to the couch. "Heyyyy, youuuu," he purred to Dean.

"Oh my god, you are wrecked," Dean mumbled in disbelief, trying to hide a smirk.

"Mmmaybe," Cas said, coming around to the front of the couch and plopping himself down on Dean's lap.

"Obviously," Dean scoffed. Cas threw his arms around Dean's neck, leaning in and planting a sloppy kiss on his mouth. "So I guess they let you in, huh?" Dean said when Cas pulled back.

Cas nodded. "Oh, yes. No pro'lems at all." He thought back to the conversation at the booth. Should he tell Dean? Maybe he should keep it to himself, unless Rich tried to make a move on him or something... _then_ he would tell Dean.

"Did you have fun?" Dean continued.

Cas snapped back to attention. "Yes. I met two of Rich's friends, Brit 'n' Jen." He paused. "What'd you do while I was gone?"

Dean shrugged. "Smoked. Did some laundry."

Cas didn't respond, only leaned forward and buried his head in the crook of Dean's neck. After a few minutes of silence, he lifted his head. "I don't feel good."

Dean frowned. "I'm not surprised."

"How do you do this all the time," he mumbled, squinting at Dean.

"You get used to it... Besides, I don't usually get this drunk."

Cas was quiet again before the color drained from his face and he pushed himself off the couch, falling to the floor and scrambling to the bathroom. Dean hurried behind him just in time to see Cas projectile vomit into the toilet from the bathroom door.

"Holy shit, good aim," Dean said, trying to stifle a laugh. He came up behind Cas, who had now crawled the rest of the way to the toilet, and placed his hand on his back. "Are you okay?"

Cas grabbed a wad of toilet paper off the roll and wiped his mouth. "I feel fuckin' great, now!" he slurred happily, sitting back on his haunches.

"Alright, come on, let's get you to bed." Dean grabbed him beneath the arms and hoisted him up. Cas leaned on the kitchen counter and fumbled with the faucet, running the water and cupping his hand underneath it to rinse his mouth out. After he'd spit the water back into the sink, Dean led him to the bedroom. "Stay here while I go clean the bathroom." Cas' aim was pretty good, but of course some had made it on the rim of the toilet and to the floor.

Cas shrugged off his trench coat and jacket, and then attempted to remove his tie. He only succeeded in making it tighter. He gave up and dropped his pants, flopping backwards onto the bed.

When Dean returned, he found Cas lying on his back, again struggling with his tie. He sat down on his side of the bed, leaning over and brushing his hands away. "I got it." He messed with it for a minute or two before getting it loosened and slipping it over Cas' head. He began unbuttoning Cas' shirt, only getting three buttons undone when Cas grabbed his wrist. "Can we fool around?" he mumbled, eyelids drooping.

Dean smiled amusedly. "I think you're a little too far gone for that, Cas."

"Please, Dean," he pleaded.

Dean leaned down and kissed him softly. "I can never say no to you."

Cas pushed him off and onto his back, clumsily climbing on top of him. Leaning down, he kissed Dean hungrily, rubbing his chest. Cas pulled his shirt over his head, trailing his kisses down Dean's neck, chest, and stomach, only stopping when he felt his chin hit the flap of Dean's jeans and the cold metal of his belt buckle. He fumbled with the buckle before managing to get it undone and yanking Dean's pants and underwear down in one swift movement.

Dean sighed as his erection was freed. Cas didn't waste any time, immediately taking it into his mouth.

"Oh, shit," Dean whispered, closing his eyes, fingers playing with the fabric of the comforter. Cas snaked his fingers up to Dean's stomach, grabbing and kneading at the layer of pudge on his stomach as his mouth continued to rise and fall on Dean's cock. Usually Dean stopped him from touching his stomach, but Cas was so drunk Dean figured he wouldn't even remember this. He also remembered, when he'd first started gaining weight, Cas sheepishly saying how he liked it. And he had to admit, it did feel kind of good.

Cas lifted his head, Dean's cock emerging from his mouth with a quiet pop. "I love your body, Dean," he said slowly, his voice low and his eyes glossy. "'Specially your tummy."

Dean felt his face instantly grow warm and he knew he was turning red. "Umm, thank you..."

Cas lowered his head back down and took Dean in his mouth again, oblivious to Dean's reaction to his comment. Dean allowed his head to drop back onto the pillow, attempting to stifle a groan. Cas was bobbing, but other than that, everything he was doing seemed completely random. The way he turned his head, where he used his tongue, when he squeezed Dean's balls. Dean lazily thrust his hips into Cas' mouth, feeling the pressure slowly but surely building inside him.

At some point Cas seemed to become determined to finish. He picked a pattern and stuck with it, swallowing around Dean, moving quickly.

"Cas, Cas I-" he started, but before he could finish, he came into Cas' mouth, grunting loudly and dropping his head back onto the pillow.

Cas slurped the remaining come off of Dean's head before crawling up to lay next to him in bed. Dean shimmied the blanket down from beneath Cas, climbing up himself and pulling it back over top of them. He settled on his back and wrapped his arm around Cas' shoulders. Cas snuggled into his chest, resting his hand on Dean's lower stomach, slowly curling his fingers in and extending them out again a few times.

"I love you Dean," he mumbled.

Dean squeezed him closer. "I love you too, Cas. Now get some sleep."

* * *

Cas awoke to the smell of eggs and bacon invading his nostrils. He slowly lifted his head off the pillow, groaning at the pain that surged beneath his skull. He let out another loud groan when he realized he was hungover.

"Come eat, you'll feel better!" Dean called from the kitchen.

Cas noticed it was darker than he would expect in the morning. He dragged himself out of bed, still dressed in only his dress shirt and boxers, and peered out the window. It was cloudy and rainy. He let the curtain fall back, turning around and shuffling his feet into the kitchen. "I feel like I got hit by a truck," he muttered. "What time is it?" He took a seat at the island, the chair cold against his thighs.

Dean turned from the stove, fully dressed, pushing some eggs around in the pan. "Two."

Cas groaned again. "Please don't ever let me get that drunk again."

Dean chuckled. "I wasn't there, remember?" He scraped some bacon and eggs onto a plate, grabbed a piece of toast out of the oven, and set the plate down in front of Cas.

"Thank you, Dean," Cas said.

Dean nodded, walking back to the counter behind them to pile the frying pans and spatula into the sink.

"Are you eating?" Cas asked around a mouthful of eggs and toast.

Dean shook his head. "Already did. Lunch, too." He absentmindedly placed a hand on his stomach before remembering the night before and letting it fall to his side. "Do we, uh, have anything do to today?"

Cas shook his head, swallowing a mouthful of food. "Nothing at all."

They spent the day on the couch, smoking joints, watching TV, and lazily making out. When seven o'clock rolled around, Dean asked if Cas was hungry.

Cas was lying between Dean's legs, head on his stomach, facing the TV. He nodded.

"Alright, get up," he said, pushing himself up as Cas straightened up and moved over. "What do you want?"

Cas shrugged. "I don't care. Whatever you make is fine."

Dean padded into the kitchen, reaching up to rummage through the cabinets. He settled on nothing special, just pasta and sauce. He hadn't realized how much he actually liked the simple meal until he wasn't forced to cook it for his father nearly every day.

Cas smiled to himself as he listened to Dean hum and mumble lyrics under his breath while he cooked. He really loved Dean, and he loved California, too. He hoped Dean felt the same, but for now he at least seemed to be content. He hoped it would grow on him as he started going out more.

Twenty minutes or so had passed before Dean returned with the food. He set two bowls down on the coffee table, and Cas dug in as Dean flipped through the channels on the TV. Settling on Family Guy, he joined Cas in eating dinner. By the time the episode was over, he set his bowl back on the table with a sigh. "I can't finish, do you want the rest?"

Cas shook his head. "I'm good."

"I ate way too much," he muttered, frowning.

"How much did you make?" Cas asked, tilting his head.

"Three-quarters of the box. You ate a third of that." He rubbed his stomach and winced. He had been stoned as hell when he'd started cooking, and his eyes were certainly bigger than his stomach, although he had been eating far too fast to notice until it was too late.

Cas stood up and took their bowls, scraping what was left of Dean's into the garbage can and setting them in the sink. When he came back, he sank down next to Dean, resting his forehead on his shoulder and snaking his fingers up underneath his shirt to ghost them along his lower stomach.

Dean twitched under his touch, his breath hitching. Cas lifted his head to press a kiss to his cheek, shifting himself so he could reach his mouth and placing one there as well.

"Cas... I can't fuck right now," Dean said, looking away. "I might barf."

"I just want to touch you..." Cas said softly, settling back down. "Is that okay?"

Dean nodded slowly.

Cas could sense the waves of embarrassment radiating off him. "Dean... you do realize I meant what I said last night, right?" He stared up at him, eyes squinted.

Dean looked to him, feeling heat rising up the back of his neck and to his ears. "You remember that?"

Cas nodded. "...Were you hoping I didn't?" He paused, observing Dean's reddening face, before adding, "Why are you so embarrassed, Dean?"

Dean shrugged. Having his embarrassment pointed out brought it to a whole new level. "I dunno. I guess... all I've ever really had going for me was my looks. I just feel more worthless now." As soon as it came out of his mouth, he regretted it. He felt like a total idiot. Besides, it was his own fault. He was the one who couldn't put the alcohol down, who was replacing dope with food, who-

"Dean," Cas said gruffly, snapping Dean out of his self-loathing train of thought. "I want you to listen to me." Dean just stared at him, mouth twisted into a frown. "I don't give a single shit what you look like. I. Love. _You_. Your body is just a bonus, but it still looks lovely to me." He squeezed a small handful of Dean's stomach.

Dean swallowed and nodded slowly. "Thank you."

Cas could tell he was still upset, so he didn't say anything else, only palmed his hand across Dean's stomach in slow circles as they resumed watching TV.


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy Dean being self-conscious, and a (little) cliffhanger.

Cas didn't hear from Rich for a few days. When he finally did, Rich wanted to know if the five of them could get together to hang out.

Cas brought it up to Dean, who hesitantly agreed. He knew he needed to get out. He was going crazy holed up in the house.

"I actually wanted to have a get-together here," Cas said carefully. "If that's okay."

Dean scoffed. "Cas, all of this is yours," he said, motioning towards the living room. "I wish you would stop asking for my permission."

"I'm just trying to accommodate your needs, Dean," he said quietly.

"Well, thank you," he said, moving towards Cas and wrapping his arms around his waist. "But I wish you could just live your life without _my_ restrictions." He frowned.

"I am, for the most part," Cas said with a smile, raising his arms to hold Dean. "I don't mind doing things a little differently sometimes."

Dean didn't respond, only rested his forehead on Cas' shoulder and leaned into him.

Cas had texted Rich and told him to bring as many people as he wanted. The house was still pretty bare, which meant plenty of room for people and less stuff to break, and Cas really wanted to dive head-first into making friends.

* * *

The party went well. Nothing to write home about, just your typical house party. It was different though, from the ones Dean had gone to with Cas and Sam back in Kansas. Those kids were all young- the parties were way too loud, things got broken, people hooked up in every room, fights broke out. And Dean couldn't deny he had taken part in his fair share of those shenanigans back home.

But this time, their guests (all twenty-five of them) seemed to have respect for their house. Maybe it was the area, maybe it was because they were older. Dean wasn't sure. One person hooked up in the bathroom, unbeknownst to Dean and Cas, but hey, it _was_ a party, after all. But for the most part, the music was reasonable, so everyone could converse easily, and a group played beer pong on the island in the kitchen while another played Cards Against Humanity in the living room, occasionally switching it up. No one got crazy drunk and belligerent; no one broke anything. Just a lot of alcohol and laughs.

Cas considered it a success. He was buzzed and happy when he closed the door behind the last guest at a little after two am. The nice thing about living in such a major city? Everyone lived pretty close by, so when they couldn't drive, they could either walk, easily find a ride home, or they would just take a cab.

Cas turned the bolt lock and clicked off the outside light. He walked back over to the couch, where Dean was putting all the cards back into the box. Sitting down next to him, he asked, "Did you have fun?"

Dean nodded. He'd gotten a little drunker than he should have; most people would've been downright sloppy. But he'd kept it together. He had a good time.

"I'm glad," Cas said, leaning into him and resting his head on his shoulder.

Dean put the last few cards into the box and replaced the top, dropping it onto the table. "Did you?"

"Yes." He smiled. "But I'm ready for sleep. I am _really_ high."

Dean snickered. "I'm pretty drunk myself." He stood up, staggering a bit, before stumbling over to the light switch. He hit the lights and they headed to the bedroom, which they had locked just to be certain no one would be able to enter. Dean figured he would lose it if he found out someone had fucked in their bed.

They quickly got undressed. Sitting up in bed, they each smoked a cigarette with the blanket over their legs, the only light in the room a dim glow from the lamp on Cas' nightstand.

Dean snubbed his cigarette out into his ashtray and scooted down in bed, burying his head into the pillow. Cas put his out as well, clicking the lamp off and also scooting down beneath the blanket, facing Dean. He tucked his face into his chest. "Night Dean."

Dean draped his arm over Cas' shoulder, burying his nose into his hair. "Night," he mumbled, already nearly asleep.

* * *

The next morning, it was Dean's turn to be hungover and Cas' turn to make breakfast.

"Hey, wake up," Cas urged, trying to stifle excitement.

Dean cracked one eye open, squinting up at Cas from where his face was buried in the pillow. "Why," he groaned into it.

Cas grinned back at him. "Because it's finally over ninety, and not a cloud in the sky! We are going to the beach."

Dean closed his eye and groaned. He did not want to go sweat in the sun with a hangover. Although... maybe after a good breakfast and sweating some of the alcohol out of his system, he would feel better. He slowly pushed himself up, squinting at Cas' alarm clock. It was already noon. As much as he didn't feel like it, he'd gotten more than eight hours.

He dragged his ass out of bed, tugged a shirt over his head and made his way into the kitchen. Cas already had a plate set out for him and was working on his own. Dean sat down with wide eyes. Six pancakes, four slices of bacon, and what looked like two scrambled eggs. "Jesus, Cas, I'm hungover, not malnourished," he remarked, picking up the container of syrup and squeezing some onto the pancakes.

Cas sat down next to him with his own plate, which consisted of three pancakes, two slices of bacon and one egg. He shrugged, taking the syrup from Dean. "You made me breakfast when I was hungover, so I figured I'd return the favor. And you know I have to out-do you."

"You don't have to try very hard at that," Dean said, chewing a bite of bacon. "You could make a raw block of tofu taste better than any of my cooking."

Cas rolled his eyes and tucked into his food. They ate in silence for a few minutes, Cas scrolling through his facebook feed on his phone and Dean texting Sam. Shortly after Cas finished eating, Dean pushed the rest of his plate away. He'd finished the bacon and eggs, but could only make it through half the pancakes.

"Did you bring your swim shorts?" Cas asked, collecting their plates and putting them in the sink.

"I'm not sure," Dean said. "I'll have to check."

He disappeared into the bedroom while Cas washed the dishes. A few days before they had left for California, Dean had snuck into his fathers house, grabbing some random clothing and other items that he wanted to keep. It was only one duffel bag and one box, and they'd been pushed into the back of the closet upon their arrival on the coast.

He knelt down in front of the closet and pulled the bag out, zipping it open and rummaging through. To his surprise, he actually found the shorts. Not so surprising was the obvious reality that they were not going to fit. He should've expected it, though... Last time he'd gone swimming was last summer, a year ago now. He'd started using shortly after, hiding it from Cas until shortly after school started. Now, he hadn't been using regularly since winter, so maybe six months, and he had been on medication for at least the last four. He'd been trying not to think about it, despite it nagging at him every morning when he had to lie down to button his jeans. Despite all the other little things- his favorite green jacket becoming tighter around the shoulders and armpits, his shirts becoming shorter, riding up his stomach whenever he reached above his head. But now, looking at the shorts from a year ago, and realizing it wasn't a matter of being tight, but that they literally were just not going to fit _period_ , he couldn't deny it anymore.

He let out a frustrated sigh, tossing the shorts back into the bag and shoving it back into the closet. Just as he was standing up, Cas entered the bedroom. "Did you find them?"

"Uh, no," Dean said, shrugging.

"We'll have to stop and get you some, then," Cas said, reaching into the dresser they'd recently seen driving past a yard sale and pulling his out. He dropped his jeans and underwear, pulling them up, and leaving his shirt on. "I'm gonna pack."

As Cas wandered around the house, shoving towels and water bottles and his camera into his bag, Dean made the bed and flopped onto it to yank up his jeans. After a momentary struggle he got them on, cursing at himself for his apparent complete lack of self-control.

As they walked to the men's section of the store, Cas suggested Dean get some other new clothes. As embarrassed as he was, feeling like Cas was basically saying _you've gotten too fat for any of your clothes_ , he couldn't argue. In the dressing room was the first Dean had seen himself in a full-length mirror in months, and he wasn't happy. His face and chest had gone soft. What had started as a small layer of pudge back in early March, five months ago, was now beginning to hang over the front of his jeans. He yanked the button open and peeled them off, kicking them onto the floor. Above his hips, angry red lines marked his skin from where his jeans had sat.

He was relieved when he pulled on an appropriately sizes pair, and he didn't have quite the muffin top, but he was still dangerously close.

He grumbled to himself as he checked the size on the jeans so he could just grab more without trying them on, realizing he was now up a total of four sizes from the pants he was wearing last summer. The shirts were an extra-large instead of his usual large, or, depending on the brand, medium.

He tossed them into a pile on the seat of the dressing room and pulled on the swim trunks, ripping off the tag to bring to the register and pulling his old shirt back over his head.

Cas was sitting on the bench on his phone when Dean emerged from the dressing room, holding his old jeans in one hand and the new clothes in the other. Cas looked up. "Are you going to get any more clothes? That's only two pairs of jeans and two shirts."

Dean shrugged. "They're kind of expensive."

Cas laughed a little. "Trust me Dean, they're not. This is Wal-Mart. You should see where most people shop for clothes. Some people pay over one-hundred dollars for one pair of jeans."

"That seems unnecessary," Dean said quietly.

Cas nodded in agreement. "So if that stuff fits, go find more."

Dean returned to the bench shortly with a few tee shirts, flannels, and jeans. He had just grabbed anything that looked like his old clothes. They made their way up to the register, Cas grabbing a bottle of sunscreen off one of the shelves they passed. "I'll burn," he mumbled to himself.

As they pulled up to the beach, Dean stared in awe at the expanse of ocean in front of him. Cas put the Impala in park and rolled a joint. They hotboxed the car, as there were too many people (with kids) on the beach to smoke there. They were still underage, and they also didn't want to deal with angry parents. Of course the amount of people made Dean nervous, but he tried to just get high and not think about it. Cas had already pulled off his shirt and applied his sunscreen, asking Dean to cover his back, so that it would be dry by the time they went into the water.

"What about you?" he asked, holding out the bottle.

Dean took the bottle and squirted a glob into his hand, half-heartedly rubbing it on his face, neck, and ears. Once they were finished smoking, he left his new clothes in the bag in the car, walking towards the water with Cas. As they neared the water, Cas shrugged off his bag, reaching in and pulling out a towel. He laid it down and threw the bag on top. Looking around to make sure there weren't any children in close proximity, he sat down cross-legged on the blanket and lit a cigarette. Dean joined him.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Cas said after a while, pulling his knees up to his chest and leaning his elbows on them.

Dean nodded. It definitely was a new experience. The wind was whipping his hair back, the air was salty, and the smell... so many "ocean" colognes and candles and none of them _really_ got it right.

Cas snuffed out his cigarette in the sand and dropped the filter onto the towel next to his bag. He reached in and pulled out his camera, holding it up. "Smile."

Dean lowered his head a little and grinned sheepishly as Cas snapped a photo. "Alright," he grumbled. "Let me take one of you now." He reached out and took the camera from Cas, turning it on him.

Cas opened his mouth so wide Dean could see his back molars, holding an exaggerated happy face while Dean took the picture. Dean lowered the camera, his cheeks turning pink. "You're adorable."

Cas smiled and laughed, looking away. When he looked up again, he nodded his head towards the shore. "Ready?"

Dean nodded, putting his cigarette out in the sand and leaving the filter next to Cas' on the towel, and they stood up and walked towards the water. Cas grabbed his hand and led the way, weaving through blankets, umbrellas, and sunbathers. When they got to the edge, he stopped, letting the most recent wave wash over his feet. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in, enjoying the wind blowing through his hair. Suddenly he re-opened them, looked at Dean, and said, "Come on!" He took off running into the water.

Dean certainly wasn't running, but he followed Cas as quickly as possible. Cas was out up to his neck by the time Dean was up to his waist.

"Come on!" Cas repeated, waving Dean on.

"What if there's crabs or some shit?" Dean said worriedly.

Cas shrugged. "So they pinch you. You'll live. Now come on!" He floated farther backwards and Dean could tell he was no longer touching the bottom.

Dean wanted to say he wouldn't live if he was eaten by a shark, but instead he sighed and followed Cas. When he got closer to Cas, now swimming as he couldn't reach the bottom, Cas quickly closed the gap between them by swimming over to him. He draped his arms around Dean's neck and wrapped his legs around his waist, basically using him as a flotation device, and gave him a deep kiss.

He broke apart and swam back and forth for a bit, mostly attempting to stay where they were, as the ocean has a habit of carrying you downshore. Dean basically just floated, terrified to touch the bottom, following Cas when he had to.

A few hours had passed before Dean was really starting to become exhausted. "Cas," he croaked, his throat dry from the salt in the air (and the water he'd accidentally swallowed). Cas turned to look at him. "Are you almost ready to go? I'm tired as fuck, this is the most physical activity I've gotten in a long time," he admitted. Swimming against waves was a lot different than swimming in a Kansas swimming hole.

Cas nodded, swimming over to Dean and placing a long kiss on his lips. When he pulled back, he started swimming towards the shore. Dean followed, thankful they were going home. As they emerged from the water, Dean's muscles ached with the return of gravity. It didn't help that his wet clothes felt like they weighed a ton. Dean gathered up as much of his shirt as he could and tried to squeeze the excess water out. When he let it go, it clung to every god damn curve. He hurriedly followed Cas back to their towel, his arms crossed over his chest. As they arrived at their towel, Cas grabbed his bag and Dean shook the towel out to remove the sand. Back at the car, he threw it over the passenger seat, since he was still pretty wet. Cas, wearing only swim trunks, was nearly dry already just from the walk from the water to the parking lot.

The ride was pretty quiet. Cas found Pink Floyd on the radio and lit a cigarette. As he smoked, Dean closed his eyes and leaned his head back, his arms folded across his chest.

Cas glanced over and noticed Dean's stomach bouncing ever-so-slightly in time with the bumps in the road, his shirt ridden up just enough to expose a small strip of flesh. He bit his lip, turning his gaze back to the road. He wanted to reach out and touch it, but he didn't want Dean to think he was a _total_ weirdo. It had been hard enough for him to admit to Dean he'd liked it in the first place.

The car came to a stop in the driveway and Dean sat up, rubbing his eyes. He hadn't fallen asleep, but he'd been close. He pulled the hem of his shirt down, yanking open the car door and climbing out. He grabbed his bags from the store out of the backseat, locking the car and following Cas inside.

"Are you hungry?" Cas asked, tossing his keys on the kitchen counter.

"Yeah, but I'm going to shower first," Dean mumbled, walking past him and into the bedroom.

When he emerged from the shower in a tee shirt and pajama pants, Cas was already done making dinner, and was sitting at the island still in his swim trunks waiting for Dean.

Dean sat down and picked up his fork, poking at his food for a moment. "I'm sorry you had to buy me new clothes," he mumbled.

Cas glanced up from his phone only momentarily before scoffing slightly at Dean. "Stop it." He brought a forkful of food to his mouth. "Eat."

Dean began eating, slowly, as Cas scrolled through his Facebook feed. He paused for a moment, brows furrowed and chewing slowly, before swallowing and saying, "Look at this."


	39. Chapter 39

Dean leaned over to peer at Cas' phone. A photo of a young puppy stared back at him. It looked like some kind of shepherd, but Dean wasn't sure. He tried to hide a frown. "What about it?"

"It needs a home," Cas said simply, shrugging; as if there was no question that they should be getting this dog.

Dean was quiet. He wasn't sure what to say.

"What do you think?" Cas asked hesitantly.

"Where is it?" Dean inquired, although he knew it didn't really matter. It was a pointless question.

"I guess someone Brit knows is giving it away. Said their landlord won't allow it." He paused, frowning at his phone. "Not sure why they went out and got a puppy, then."

"Will our landlord allow it?" Dean asked, half hoping she wouldn't. Maybe he could get out of this for just a little bit longer.

"I can ask her," Cas said, and within moments he was holding the phone up to his ear.

"Hey, Janet," he smiled into the phone. "I'm fine, thank you. How are you? ... Yes, we love it. ... I was just calling because I was wondering if you would be okay with Dean and I getting a dog. The lease didn't say anything about pets. ... Really? Okay, great. ... Thank you! Yes, have a good night... Goodbye." He hung up and set the phone down, grinning at Dean.

Dean swallowed the bite of food he'd been chewing. "I'm guessing she said yes?"

Cas nodded. He looked down at his phone, mouth open, hesitating. Finally he asked, "Are you okay with this?"

Dean shrugged, looking down at his plate. "I don't want to tell you what you can and can't do, Cas."

"I know, Dean. But I think it would be good for both of us."

Dean nodded slowly. "Yeah." He pushed the remainder of his food around on his plate, sitting in silence as Cas called Brit.

When he hung up, he looked at Dean. "She said we have to get him tonight."

Dean set his fork down and took a deep breath. "Okay."

Cas wolfed down the rest of his meal and jumped in the shower as Dean changed into jeans. They stopped to pick up Brit, who was going to direct them to the person's apartment.

"Have you ever had a dog?" she asked from the backseat, ashing her cigarette out the window.

Dean wasn't sure who she was talking to, and he didn't exactly want to answer anyway. "No," Cas replied. "But I've always wanted one."

Dean remained quiet, keeping his eyes on the road. They drove across town, smoking a joint, before pulling into the parking lot of an apartment complex.

The familiar sound of Facebook messenger pinged from Brit's phone as she told the girl they'd arrived, and in response was told to come up to the apartment.

"Jesus christ," Dean huffed as they reached the top of the stairs of the fourth floor. "Doesn't this building have an elevator?"

"Broken," Brit mumbled, breathing slightly heavier herself from years of smoking cigarettes. She turned the corner down a hallway and knocked on a large wooden door.

Dean leaned back against the wall, thanking whatever higher power was out there that they weren't living here. He was certain he would have had a heart attack already. _Or maybe you just wouldn't be a fat fuck._

He straightened up and a lump formed in his throat when he heard the familiar voice ringing in his ears. He hadn't heard it since they'd arrived on the coast. He closed his eyes and rubbed his hand over his face, trying to pretend he hadn't heard it at all.

The door opened and a young girl stepped out and gave Brit a hug. "You two are here about Billy, right?" she asked, turning to Cas.

Cas cocked his head. That was such a _person_ name. "Yes," he replied.

"I'm Christine," she said, leading them into the apartment and motioning for them to take a seat on the couch. It was one room, with a half-wall separating the kitchen. The place smelled stale... and faintly like urine. A baby gate blocked off the only the small area it could, the opening to the kitchen. Dean could see something moving through the holes in the plastic gate.

"Sorry for the mess," she mumbled. "I guess I should have thought about living in a studio on the fourth floor before getting a puppy." She walked over to the gate, unlatching it and swinging it open. A brown and black puppy bounded out into the studio, stopping briefly before spotting Dean and Cas and running over. Immediately it jumped up between Dean's legs, clawing at his thighs in an attempt to climb up.

Dean's heart melted instantly. He reached down and scooped the pup up from underneath the armpits, settling him down in his lap. The puppy jumped up again, paws on Dean's chest, to repeatedly lick his face. Dean tried to stifle a giggle, turning to Cas who was staring at him with a shit-eating grin. He rolled his eyes and passed the puppy to Cas, who held him in his lap and rubbed his ears. He licked Cas' hand a few times before trying to get back to Dean.

_Don't get too attached..._

"He likes you," Cas said.

"Yeah." Dean smiled weakly.

"So," Christine said, clapping her hands together. "I have some stuff for him already. Some food, a bowl, and some toys." She went into the kitchen, returning with a shopping bag full of gently used toys and a half-empty bag of kibble. Setting it down on the floor, she asked, "Do you want the gate?"

Cas shrugged. "Sure." He figured they could set it up in the bedroom door for now, since it was the only room with carpet. "Are you... asking for a rehoming fee?"

"If you can afford it," she said sheepishly. "I've only had him for two weeks, but he's already been to the vet to start his shots and stuff. I'll get you the records." She crossed the room to a desk, opening the drawer and rummaging through some papers. "But really I just want a good home for him."

Cas set the puppy down and pulled out his wallet. "This is all I have on me," he said, pulling out two twenties and a ten.

She took it, handing him the vet records. "This is plenty, thank you. Do you guys want help out to the car?"

"I think we can handle it," Brit said. "How old is he?"

"Three months," she replied. "I got him at ten weeks. His birthdate should be on the vet records."

"Is he a purebred German Shepherd?" Brit continued, watching the puppy settle in Dean's lap, against his stomach. Cas folded up the papers from the vet, shoving them inside his coat.

Christine nodded. "Yeah. Both parents are AKC, but it was an accidental litter. They aren't health tested or whatever. I know now that you're _supposed_ to do that before breeding." She shrugged. "But the owner said it was an accident while she was out of town. I guess the dog sitter didn't recognize the heat and didn't separate them."

Cas nodded, standing up and moving towards the toys and dog food.

"I'll grab that," Dean said quickly, standing up as well. He pushed the puppy into Cas' chest and grabbed the bags. Christine unmounted the baby gate and handed it to Brit.

"Thank you guys," she said sadly as they all moved towards the door, giving Billy a small pat on his head. "I'll miss you buddy, but you'll be happier now. You be good for your new daddies."

As they descended the stairs, Cas was ahead, with Dean in the middle and Brit trailing behind. Dean could see Billy's head poking up above Cas' shoulder, staring at him and whining slightly.

He gulped. Not getting attached was going to be harder than he thought.

* * *

"We should go to PetCo," Cas said as they all loaded up in the car. "Would you like to come?" he asked, turning to Brit in the backseat.

She shrugged. "Sure."

They drove back across town, stopping half-way at a PetCo.

"We need a lot of stuff, I think," Cas said, grabbing a cart. "But first a collar and leash."

He pulled a red flat collar off the shelf, adjusting it slightly before trying it on him. It fit perfectly, with plenty of room for adjustment. He ripped the tags off, setting them in the cart, and grabbed a red leash, clipping it to the collar.

Dean set the pup down and he bounced around in circles, sniffing the ground, straining on the collar. He stopped and made a coughing sound.

"He's choking himself," Dean frowned down at him.

"He has to learn to walk on a leash," Cas said, watching the puppy. "They aren't born knowing how."

They wandered around, Cas grabbing anything he thought the pup would need: a new food and water bowl (the one Christine had given them was plastic and chewed up around the edges), some teething toys, a bed, some training treats, and new food. He'd asked an employee for help choosing a food, and they'd directed him to the grain-free section.

"The person we got him from was feeding Purina Puppy Chow," Cas said, thinking back to the bag in the car. "That one's bad, right?"

The employee couldn't hide his grimace before nodding, which told Cas all he needed to know. He grabbed a large bag of grain-free food, plopping it down into the cart and thanking the employee for his help.

"I think we have everything we need now except a kennel."

"A kennel?" Dean asked. "Why do we need a cage?" He thought back to Charlie, who only went into the cage for punishment or when his dad was being violent.

"So he's safe when we can't watch him," Cas replied. "Otherwise he could get into something that could hurt him."

Dean nodded. He guessed that made sense. As they checked out, Cas realized they needed an ID tag.

"Are we going to change his name?"

"Definitely," Dean said, looking down at Billy, who was pouncing on a hairball that had been blown across the floor by the front doors opening. "But we should think about it."

Cas nodded and they got a tag with only their address and phone numbers as Brit knelt down on the floor to scratch under his chin. "He's so cute," she cooed. "I'm so glad you guys got him!"

"Me, too," Cas said, and Dean felt guilty for not wanting a dog, for shutting Cas down when he'd asked last time. All he wanted was to make Cas as happy as he made him, and if a dog did that, well, then they were getting a damn dog. But all he could think about was something bad happening- anything, and how it would be his fault.

They dropped Brit off, smoking a joint in her driveway, leaning against the car as Billy sniffed around in the grass, dropping his hips to pee. "Good boy!" Cas said, giving him a pat on the head when he ran back to them.

Brit gave them each a hug and they said their goodbyes, loading Billy up in the car and driving off. It was only a few minutes to their house, where Cas gave him another chance to potty in the front yard as Dean unloaded the car. "Can you set up the gate in the bedroom door and close the bathroom door?" Cas called from the yard.

"Yeah," Dean called back from the doorway. A few minutes later, he popped back out of the front door. "Okay."

Cas brought Billy inside, unclipping the leash and letting him loose. "Check out your new home," he said happily.

Billy ran in zig-zags, sniffing the floor, the couch, and the legs of the chairs- just about everything he could get his nose on. After a few failed attempts, he managed to hoist himself up onto the couch.

"Good thing we got a brown couch," Cas said with a laugh.

Dean, standing next to him, nodded.

"Are you okay?" Cas asked, wrapping his arm around his waist.

Dean nodded again. "I'll be fine."

Cas turned to him, placing a hand on his stomach and reaching up to give him a kiss. Billy, seemingly content with his examination of the apartment, came bounding back over, crashing into Dean's legs when he failed to come to a stop in time.

"I guess we should get his stuff set up," Dean said.

Cas agreed and they ripped open the box to the kennel, sitting down on the floor and getting it set up. The kennel itself wasn't the hard part, it was getting the puppy panel in the middle.

"What is this even for?" Dean asked. "What's the point of a large kennel if we're going to cut off three quarters of it?"

"If there is too much room, he'll be tempted to relieve himself in here," Cas grunted, on his hands and knees. He was fighting with the hooks on the wire to get it to attach to the kennel. "As he grows and learns to toilet outside, we move the panel back until eventually we take it out."

"How do you know all this?" Dean inquired, raising an eyebrow.

Cas finally got the panel into place, backing out of the kennel and sitting back on his haunches. Billy immediately went in to investigate, sniffing the plastic pan. "I've wanted a dog for a long time," he admitted. "I've done a lot of research."

Dean nodded slowly. "Well... that's good. Because I have no idea what I'm doing." He paused. "What if I mess it up?"

Cas looked at him empathetically. "You will do fine, Dean. But I will tell you right now... don't compare him to Charlie," he finished quietly.

"I won't," Dean mumbled, looking to Billy, who was already lying in the kennel.

"He likes it," Cas said. He reached in and touched Billy's side. He lifted his head and opened his eyes. "I know you're tired, you had a big day. But it's dinner time." Cas stood up and grabbed the bag of food, hoisting it up onto the counter.

Billy jumped up at the sound of the food bag, following Cas into the kitchen and waiting eagerly as he poured some kibble into the bowl and set it on the floor. He circled the bowl, tail wagging, crunching away, sending crumbs flying all along the floor around the bowl. Cas smiled as he watched him.

They waited about ten minutes after he finished and took him outside again, this time through the back door in the kitchen. He sniffed for only a few moments before doing all of his business and turning back to Dean and Cas.

"Good boy," Cas called. "Come!"

Billy ran up to them and Cas leaned down to grab the leash he was dragging behind him. "You want to say it when he's already coming to you, so there's no chance he'll mess it up. Otherwise you have to correct him, and we want to avoid that as much as possible. We want to set him up for success." He rubbed Billy's head.

Dean nodded and they brought him back inside. When he went into his kennel on his own, Cas tossed him a treat and praised him.

The laid on the couch for a while as Billy slept. It was getting late, so they smoked and watched TV as Cas went over everything he had found in his research. Potty training, kennel training, commands, et cetera. Dean just listened, trying to retain it all.

It was nearly midnight when they fell asleep on the couch, forgetting to latch the kennel.


	40. Chapter 40

_"Eat some for yourself, Sammy," Dean chuckled as Sam dipped his fingers into his spaghetti and fed it to Charlie under the table. He sat down next to him with his own plate._

_He managed one bite before the front door burst open and John stumbled in, slamming it behind him. "Good," he muttered as he entered the kitchen, "you made food."_

_Dean didn't reply, only stood up to fix John a plate as John disappeared into the bathroom. He set it down across the table from him and Sam and sat back down. Sam dangled another fistful of spaghetti in the air and Charlie gently nibbled it out from between his fingers._

_"Sammy," Dean whispered urgently. "Not in front of dad."_

_John emerged from the bathroom just as Charlie was licking Sam's fingers clean. He reached down and smacked Charlie across the muzzle, eliciting a yip from the dog. "Go lay down!" he bellowed._

_Charlie scampered off into the living room and John sat down in front of his plate. "Damn dog ain't supposed to be in the kitchen," he muttered, picking up his fork. "And you," he said, pointing to Sam. "Stop feeding the_ fucking _dog from the_ fucking _table!"_

_Sam put his head down and picked up his fork, which he hadn't used yet the whole meal, and stabbed at his spaghetti._

_"Dad," Dean mumbled, not looking up from his plate. "He's only one. Sometimes he forgets."_

_"That's why I gotta remind him," he snapped._

_Dean didn't say anything. He_ could _remind him without yelling and swearing, but whatever. He went back to eating his food._

_A few minutes passed before Dean noticed Charlie sneaking back into the kitchen behind John, nearly brushing his leg as he crept under the table. Dean straightened up, his breath catching in his throat. He felt Charlie nosing at the free hand lying on his lap, and he tried to nudge him away before John noticed._

_John finished eating and hoisted himself up from the table. Heading for the living room, he turned at the doorway. "Do the dish- What the fuck are you doing in here again?" he barked as he spotted Charlie by Dean's legs. He surged forward and reached beneath the table, grabbing him by the collar and dragging him across the kitchen. Charlie's nails scraped against the linoleum. When he crossed the threshold into the carpeted living room, he threw Charlie forward, where he hit the back of the couch with a thud._

_"Stop!" Dean yelled. His chair scraped against the floor and nearly toppled over when he jumped up._

_"Stay out of this," John snapped over his shoulder._

_Dean looked over to Sam, who was now crying. He scooped him up and set him on the floor, taking his hand and quickly leading him through the living room, past John and up the stairs. He pushed him down to sit on his bed and placed his hands on his shoulders._

_"I'm sorry," Sam mumbled, looking down._

_Dean leaned down. Sam looked up and Dean looked into his eyes. "It's not your fault, Sammy. Stay here. I will be right back, okay?"_

_A loud yelp came from downstairs._

_Sam flinched, closing his eyes and covering his ears. He nodded furiously._

_Dean turned on his heel and hurried out, closing the door behind him and flying back down the stairs. He almost couldn't bring himself to look at Charlie, cowering on the floor as John towered over him. But he couldn't stop himself from lifting his head slightly, glancing over for a millisecond at Charlie's terrified face. Charlie met his gaze briefly, and Dean felt terrible; like Charlie was pleading "help me". But what the hell could he do?_

_He closed his eyes and rushed back into the kitchen, collecting the plates and scraping any remaining food into the garbage. He hadn't even been able to finish half of his own dinner, but that wasn't that unusual. He dumped everything into the sink and started washing furiously._

_"Now fuck off somewhere!" he heard from the living room. He figured John was angrily pointing into the air. Charlie knew that as his cue to make himself far, far away._

_John re-entered the kitchen and Dean didn't realize he could wash so fast. He needed to get away from John, before this night got ten times worse._

_John came up behind him and leaned down. Dean could smell the familiar bite of whiskey on his hot breath, overpowering the smell of dish soap wafting up from the sink. "And what the fuck did_ you _do today,_ princess _?" he hissed. "I know you can't go an entire day without fucking_ something _up."_

_Dean shook his head, rinsing a plate under the faucet. "N- nothing, sir."_

_"Nothing what? You did nothing? Because I know you didn't fuck up nothing." He straightened back up._

_Dean rinsed off the last plate and placed it in the drain as quickly yet carefully as possible, as even the most mundane things like "slamming my dishes" could and would set John off. "I'm done," he said quickly. "Can I go to bed?"_

_"Not so fast," John sneered, reaching forward and grabbing his arm. He twisted Dean to face him. "I asked you a question."_

Dean's eyes shot open and he inhaled sharply, looking around the room. It was dark, the only sound the hum of the air conditioner. He then realized something was _moving_ on his face. He was about to panic until he realized it was the puppy, standing on his chest, licking his face. Between moments of licking, he would lift his head, cocking it at Dean and whining.

Dean let out a long sigh, letting his head fall back and scoffing lightly at the relief of being woken from his nightmare. He looked back down at Billy, raising a hand to rub his ear. "Perfect timing," he mumbled, still shaken from the nightmare. "Do you need to go out?"

Billy just stared at him. Dean pushed himself up, grabbing his cigarettes and a lighter off the table and padding over to the back door. Billy followed at his side. Dean closed the door behind them and stood on the small, square cement patio. It was cold under his bare feet. He gestured towards the yard. "Go potty." He lifted a cigarette up to his lips and lit it, blowing out a short puff of smoke.

Billy didn't move, only stared up at Dean and whined. Dean wasn't sure what he wanted, so he repeated himself. "Go potty."

Billy took a few steps forward and jumped up on Dean's leg, clawing at his pajama bottoms.

"What do you want?" Dean asked softly, letting himself sink down to sit cross-legged on the cement.

Billy climbed up on his lap and curled up, resting his head on Dean's chest and stomach. He stared up at him, whining softly.

Dean reached up with his free hand and ran it down his neck and side, over and over. His eyes started welling up with tears, thinking back to Charlie. Billy pushed his muzzle into Dean's chest, closing his eyes.

They sat like that for a moment, Dean taking slow drags off his cigarette, before he began to feel calm again. Billy stood up and stretched before trotting towards the grass and squatting to pee. He then sniffed around for a few moments before pooping.

"Good boy," Dean praised him. "Come!"

Billy ran right back to him. Dean snuffed his cigarette out in the ashtray they had left out there and stood up. Billy followed him right back inside, waiting on the floor as Dean settled back onto the couch. He then jumped up pawed at Dean's side until Dean lifted him up off the floor and set him on his stomach. He laid out across Dean's chest, his muzzle pressed up against Dean's neck.

Dean wanted to cry again, remembering sleeping with Charlie, but he couldn't with Billy's body lying on his chest. It was strangely comforting.

* * *

Dean awoke to the sound and smell of breakfast. He could hear bacon sizzling in the pan across the room.

Cas heard him grunting and moving around on the couch and spoke up. "Hungry?" he called over his shoulder.

"Yeah," Dean croaked. "Where's the dog?"

"Over here begging," Cas chuckled. "He ate already though."

Dean walked into the kitchen to see Billy sitting politely at Cas' feet, staring up at what he was doing on the stove. Dean came up behind Cas and wrapped his arms around his waist, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck.

"How did you sleep?" Cas asked, pushing the bacon around in the pan.

Dean hesitated. "Okay."

"You don't sound so sure," Cas said quietly. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Dean let his arms fall away from Cas and shrugged. "I'm okay. Thanks, though."

"Can you grab two plates?" Cas asked him, lifting the pan with the eggs off the stove. Dean grabbed two plates from the cabinet and set them on the counter as Cas made them up.

They ate slowly, Cas again scrolling through his newsfeed and Dean texting Sam. It was kind of their morning ritual now.

"I think we should take Billy out around town. Socialize him," Cas said, as he set his plate in the sink.

Dean nodded. Walking would be good. Socializing the puppy would be good. Except the part where it meant socializing himself.

Dean got dressed quickly. His new clothes were much more comfortable. They leashed up Billy and Cas grabbed a roll of poop bags and some treats before heading out the door.

The outing went well. Dean observed Cas doing his best to train Billy, and he seemed to do a pretty good job of it. He held a treat out in his closed fist, leaning down, to teach Billy where to stand as they walked. He asked anyone who gave Billy a second glance if they minded petting him to get him used to people, and before Billy was allowed to approach he had to sit, wait, and be released. Cas would then give him a treat and let him be pet.

By the fifth person, Billy was sitting patiently waiting for his treat and release word.

"He's smart," Cas said as he tossed him a treat.

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "He is."

They came upon a park and let him sniff around for a bit. He peed and settled down at Dean's feet, although Cas had been holding his leash for most of the day.

Dean lit a cigarette and leaned back on the bench, draping his arm along the back, behind Cas.

"Hey!" they heard someone call. Dean looked up from the ground and Cas looked up from his phone to see Brit crossing the park, waving to them. Cas gave her a wave and looked at Billy, urging him to _Stay_.

He did, quivering with excitement, and as Brit approached, Cas said, "Okay!" Billy jumped up and closed the distance between himself and Brit. She crouched down and he jumped up at her lap, licking her face.

"Well, he certainly seems happy with you two," she said with a smile, craning her neck so Billy would lick her chin and not her mouth.

"He prefers Dean," Cas said with a smirk. Dean raised his eyebrows at him and Cas teasingly said, "Yeah, I noticed." He smiled a little wider and Dean scoffed a laugh and pulled on his cigarette.

On the way back home, they were quiet, Billy walking nicely between them because he was exhausted. Every few minutes Cas would tell him, "Good boy," before giving him a small treat.

"Cas, I think I should get a job," Dean blurted out as they turned down the first road into the residential area.

"Okay," Cas said. "Why?"

As they passed beneath a street light, Dean shrugged and kicked a bottle cap off the sidewalk. It bounced and rolled half-way across the street, and Billy turned his head sideways to stare at it. "I just want to contribute. At least pay my own way. And I need something to keep me busy while you're in school."

Cas nodded, taking a drag off his cigarette. "Okay. What were you thinking?"

Dean shrugged again. "Something where I don't have to deal with people."

* * *

"Brit's friend said her job is hiring," Cas said, lying on their bed and texting on his phone.

"Where does she work?" Dean asked, as he hung some clean shirts in the closet.

"She delivers newspapers. But it's overnight. ...And seven nights a week. Even holidays." He stopped, unsure if Dean felt he could handle that. He waited for a response.

Dean shrugged. "Could work for now."

Cas continued. "She said you go to the warehouse and grab your papers and that's it. You're alone for the rest of the night. She said she _smokes joints, listens to music, and throws shit out her window_ all night." He paused, his lips curling into a small smile. "Her words."

Dean gave him an unsure smile. "Sounds fun. Ask her how I apply."

"She said just go to the warehouse tomorrow at eight am with your license," he said. "She texted me the address."

Dean nodded, swallowing nervously. He hadn't had a job since he was fired from the record store in April, and he wasn't expecting this to happen so soon. He'd only told Cas he'd wanted to work _yesterday_. But he had to do it. He couldn't keep sitting here letting Cas provide everything for him- it wasn't fair.

* * *

To Dean's surprise, he was hired on the spot. Not many of the few people in the area with cars needed or could survive off the pay of this job, so they needed more drivers for the routes outside of the city. The first night, he rode with one of the workers at the warehouse, who had been doing the route when it was available. Then, for the next three days, he drove his car with her in the passenger seat, trying desperately to memorize the route. The woman assured him it would be fine, every day he got a print-out with which houses to hit in which order. He just had to try and remember landmarks, and eventually he wouldn't even need the list.

His first night alone was a Monday, and it was exactly one week before Cas started school. It was midnight, and they were lying on the couch smoking. Dean was leaned back with his arm around Cas, who was slumped forward with his head on Dean's chest, dragging his fingers across his side.

"Come with me tonight, Cas," Dean said softly, slowly moving his fingers through Cas' hair. "It's my first night alone."

Cas looked up at him and smiled. "Okay."

At one am they drove to the warehouse and picked up the papers. Cas bagged them and squinted at the list as Dean drove. They smoked and listened to music and Dean slammed on the breaks because he'd passed the driveway only a _few_ times.

The end of their route was about forty-five minutes from home. It was five-thirty am and the sun was rising in the sky.

Cas flicked his cigarette out the window and reached over to place his hand on Dean's thigh. He started rubbing, slowly moving his hand up and over to Dean's belt buckle.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked, looking down briefly, then glancing at Cas before returning his eyes to the road.

"Want me to play with your cock?" Cas asked, enunciating the last word and smirking slightly.

"Uhh... yes," Dean said with a laugh.

Cas began fumbling with Dean's belt buckle. He lifted his shirt up slightly so he could see and was greeted with the bottom of Dean' stomach protruding slightly over the waistband of his jeans. His knuckles grazed along the soft skin and his breath hitched as he realized he wasn't even paying attention to the belt.

"Okay, I got it," Dean said, brushing his hand away. "Hold the wheel."

Cas took the wheel with his left hand as Dean quickly unbuckled his belt and undid his jeans, sliding them down a little and settling back in his seat.

Cas let go of the wheel and took Dean, still soft, in his hand. He played with him for a few moments as Dean began to get hard. Once he did, Cas picked up his pace a little, tugging rhythmically and rubbing along Dean's slit with his thumb.

Dean let out a heavy sigh. Cas shifted in his seat and leaned forward, flicking his tongue along the tip.

Dean's hips twitched and his breath caught in his throat. He gripped the wheel a little tighter. He wasn't expecting a blowjob.

Cas suckled the tip briefly before lowering his head and taking Dean half-way. He rose and fell a few times, pumping the base with his hand, before suddenly taking all of Dean in his mouth.

"J-Jesus, Cas," Dean spluttered, further tightening his grip in the wheel.

Cas' only response was to move faster; suck harder.

Dean gasped and slammed on the breaks, pulling to the side of the road. He threw her in park and leaned back in the seat, reaching down to twist his fingers through Cas' hair. Cas moaned onto his cock, and the vibrations sent Dean tumbling over the edge. He tossed his head back, closing his eyes and letting out a long moan as he came into Cas' mouth.

Cas lifted his head, swallowing and wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his trench coat. He leaned up to kiss Dean.

Dean let out a little moan into the kiss. "I love when I can taste myself on you," he mumbled, and his face instantly flushed red with the embarrassment of what he'd just said. That was gross, right?

Cas only smirked at him. A tractor trailer zoomed past them, shaking the car. "Would you like me to drive?"

Dean nodded quickly and Cas opened the door and climbed out. Dean straightened up, pulling up his pants, and slid across the benchseat.

Cas plopped himself down in the drivers seat and threw her in park, merging back onto the road and quickly picking up speed.

Dean re-did his pants and belt and lit two cigarettes, passing one to Cas.

"Thank you," he said, rolling down his window a bit.

"Thank _you_ ," Dean responded with a grin.


	41. Chapter 41

"Are you nervous?"

"A little," Cas shrugged. "Can't be any worse than high school."

"Yeah... but that was pretty bad."

"Yeah," he said, nodding. He grabbed his backpack off the floor, shrugging it over his shoulder and hitting the bowl in his hand. He held it out to Dean, who took a huge hit, clearing it. "But that was shit-hole Kansas," Cas said with distaste.

Dean nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. "You know, I knew you hated Kansas... but I didn't realize how much."

Cas scoffed, pulling his phone from his pocket. "If it weren't for you, I would've wished we'd never moved there."

Dean was quiet. He wondered how much better off Cas would be if they'd never met. Then he wondered how much worse off _he_ would be if they'd never met.

"You ready?" Cas said, pocketing his phone and interrupting Dean's thoughts.

"Yeah," Dean said, shaking his head slightly and grabbing his keys off the coffee table.

When he returned home, the house was quiet. Empty. He sighed and heard a whimper coming from the kennel. He walked over to it, unlatching the door and letting the dog out. Cujo ran over to the couch and jumped up, lying down and tilting his head at Dean.

Dean sat down next to him and he stretched, crawling forward and onto Dean's lap.

"What should we do today, Cujo?" he said, rubbing his ear and chuckling to himself at the irony of his name choice. The dog was about as aggressive as a butterfly.

Cujo barked at him and jumped off the couch. He ran over to his bin of toys, rooting around until he found a stuffed animal. He shook it violently, sending stuffing flying everywhere. Okay, so maybe he _was_ aggressive... when it came to stuffed animals. They would all be smart to run far, far away. He then ran back to Dean, who took it and started playing tug-o-war.

They killed an hour playing with toys until Cujo passed out in his bed, exhausted. Dean flopped back on the couch and picked up the remote, turning on the TV and flicking through the channels. He settled on Spongebob, as there wasn't much on during a weekday. He stood up again to grab their weed and Cujo lifted his head momentarily to see where he was going. When he emerged from the bedroom, Cujo lowered his head again.

He sat down on the couch and puffed on the bowl, staring blankly at the TV. As he got stoned, he realized just how tired he was. Usually he went to sleep when he got back from work around six-thirty and slept until late afternoon, and it was already ten. Not wanting to leave Cujo alone in the living room, but not wanting to kennel him, either, he laid back on the couch. He set an alarm for four, since he had to pick up Cas at five, and tossed his phone onto the coffee table.

He awoke to his phone ringing and vibrating on the table. He groggily reached over and grabbed it, squinting at the screen. It was Cas.

"Hello?"

"Hey, I was going to ask where you are, but it's apparent you were asleep."

Dean could hear the smile in his voice. He was relieved he wasn't annoyed, although it seemed like Cas never really got annoyed.

"I'm sorry..." He ran his hand over his face. "What time is it?"

"Quarter after."

Dean paused. "After what?"

Cas laughed. "Five."

Dean groaned. "Shit. I'm sorry, I'll be there soon."

"No rush. Bring Billy- err, Cujo. We should get him used to car rides."

"Yeah, okay... I'll be there in twenty." It was only a ten minute ride and that gave him ten minutes to wake the hell up and take the dog out.

He hung up and shoved his phone in his pocket, which was getting harder to do while sitting down. He stood up and walked over to the back door, calling Cujo. When he looked down he noticed a puddle of urine.

"Aww," he groaned as Cujo came trotting to the door. "Sorry I didn't let you out before I fell asleep," Dean said to him as he grabbed the roll of paper towels off the counter. "...But I do have to tell you that that's _bad_." He pointed to the pee.

Cujo lowered his head a little and just looked at Dean.

"It's okay, Cujo, you're not in trouble. This was my fault," Dean said, kneeling down to wipe up the mess. Cujo came up behind him and licked his arm. Dean finished cleaning up and tossed the paper towels into the garbage. They headed outside and Dean smoked a cigarette while Cujo peed again. When it took him longer than usual to poop, Dean realized he'd slept through feeding him lunch.

 _Fuck_. He was fucking this up already. With a heavy sigh he called Cujo back and they went inside. Dean grabbed his leash, the poop bags, his treats, and his keys and loaded him up into the car.

He opened the treat bag and gave him a small handful to last him until dinner. Cujo jumped slightly when the engine turned over, but recovered quickly. Dean nodded approvingly. This dog seemed to take everything pretty well.

Dean drove slowly to campus, as Cujo hadn't gotten his car-legs yet, and without being on someone's lap, every turn caused him to spread his legs and lower his center of gravity to the seat, clinging on for dear life.

When Dean pulled up, Cas was nowhere to be seen. He pulled out his phone and sent him a text asking him where he was.

_'Up by the building, under the tree'_

Dean squinted at the school and could see three people sitting beneath the tree, one of them wearing a trench coat. He frowned. He didn't want to meet people, he just wanted to pick up his boyfriend and go home. Eat dinner. Maybe have sex. Not make polite talk with strangers. Not _socialize._

He sighed and exited the car, turning around to clip Cujo's leash to his collar and picking him up to remove him from the car. He set Cujo down on the pavement and grabbed the poop bags and treats.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped over the curb onto the grass and made his way across the lawn. Half-way there, he could feel the beginnings of a panic attack worming it's way into his system. Sweat was beading on the back of his neck despite it being cool outside and he felt sick.

Cujo stopped and Dean didn't realize until the leash gave him resistance. He stopped and turned to see the pup's feet planted in the dirt, refusing to budge.

"What's the matter?" Dean whispered. "You don't want to go either?"

Cujo closed the distance between them and pressed his head into Dean's leg. Dean crouched down and reached up to pet his head, and Cujo clamored into his lap and onto his chest, trying to push him down and stand on him.

Dean let out a deep breath and lifted him up, setting him down in the grass and sitting up. While the brief pressure had actually helped a little, it was kind of embarrassing lying on the ground playing with a puppy in public.

"C'mon, buddy, let's get this over with." He nodded towards the tree and started walking, and Cujo followed.

As he got closer, Cas noticed him and waved. Dean could see he was with two girls. Cujo was staring at him, head cocked, and Dean could tell that he wasn't sure why the person looked familiar. As they got close enough to see Cas' face, Cujo was suddenly overjoyed. He started bouncing and straining on the collar.

"Tell him to sit," Cas called.

Dean looked down at him. "Cujo, _sit_."

Cujo looked at him sadly but obliged. Dean rummaged into the bag of treats and gave him one.

"Drop the leash and tell him to stay," he heard Cas say.

"Are you sure?" Dean called back.

"Yes, we've been practicing."

"Cujo, _stay_ ," Dean said firmly. He dropped the leash. Cujo just stared at him.

When the dog looked back to Cas, he yelled, "Cujo, come!"

Cujo took of running, straight to Cas. Cas knelt down and rubbed him all over. "Hey Cujo," he cooed. "Did you miss me?" Cujo showered his face with kisses as Dean closed the distance between them.

"What a cutie," the one girl squeaked. She had long, dirty blonde hair and was wearing a sundress and flats. A small messenger bag was draped over her shoulder. She knelt down to pet him (after Cas made him sit and wait, of course), making kissy noises and baby-talking him. Cujo ate that shit up, rubbing his side and butt all over her legs and wagging his tail excitedly.

The other girl smirked. "He _is_ cute." She had jet black hair and a wardrobe to match- a ratty band tee, black skinny jeans, and black converse.

"This is my boyfriend, Dean," Cas said, moving towards Dean.

Dean felt his heart jump into his throat at that word. It's not that he didn't like it, but he hated having to mentally brace himself for some kind of negative reaction every time it was said. Because you just never knew what seemingly-nice person would turn into a total douchebag when it came to homosexuality.

"Nice to meet you," the second girl said, extending her hand. Dean took it and was surprised at the strength of her handshake. "I'm Haley."

"I'm Gemma," the blonde said from the ground, not looking up from Cujo.

"They're in my class," Cas said.

Dean nodded, unsure of what to say. "How was your first day?" he finally asked, turning his head to look at Cas.

Cas smiled a little. "It was good. Are you ready to go home?"

"Uhh, yeah," Dean said, scratching the back of his neck. "I have work soon." Okay, so six hours wasn't exactly _soon_ , but once evening arrived, one am came _quick_.

Cas nodded. "I'll see you guys around. It was nice to meet you."

They waved and Dean waved back. They then turned and walked across the yard, Cas holding the puppy's leash.

Once they were out of earshot, Haley leaned back against the tree and lit a cigarette. She looked to Gemma. "The bigger one didn't talk much, huh?"

Gemma tilted her head. "The taller one?"

Haley just looked at her. "Well, yeah, what did you think I- oh." She paused. "Well, I wouldn't really describe someone like that, but it's not inaccurate."

Gemma just shrugged. "He looked nervous."

"Yeah," Hayley agreed. "Cas did say he's not very social."

"Some people aren't," Gemma said, popping a piece of gum in her mouth. "And that's okay."

"I could tell you were becoming uncomfortable," Cas said as they got in the car. He fastened his seat belt and leaned over to lift Cujo into the car and set him on his lap. "I'm sorry," he added as he closed the car door.

"You don't have to be sorry, Cas," Dean said quickly as he fastened his own seat belt. "I can't become a hermit anyway." He turned the key in the ignition.

Cas smiled. "That's true."

Cujo was much more relaxed on the ride home, standing on Cas' lap and sticking his noise out the cracked window. Cas kept a hand on his hip to keep him stabilized.

"What do you want for dinner?" Dean asked as he threw his keys onto the table.

"I don't care," Cas shrugged. "Whatever you want."

* * *

"Guess what today is?" Cas asked excitedly, kneeling on the couch next to Dean, who had just gotten back from work.

Dean cocked his head and stared at him. "What?"

Cas frowned. "You don't remember?"

Dean slowly shook his head.

"It's our anniversary," Cas said flatly.

"Oh!" Dean said quickly. "Right. Shit, I'm sorry Cas." Wow, he certainly felt like a proper dick. But in his defense, their relationship had kind of progressed over time. There was no set moment when one of them asked the other one on a date, but he assumed Cas was going by the date when they were lying in the field in Kansas and Dean had told him _"I'm okay with this."_ Yikes, talk about romantic...

Cas shrugged. "I figured you wouldn't remember. You weren't exactly sober very often." He brought his gaze to meet Dean's.

Dean looked down. "I know. I'm sorry." He looked back up at Cas again. "What would you like to do?"

"Can we go out to dinner?" Cas asked hopefully. "Like, a nice dinner?"

The corner of Dean's mouth rose in an uneven grin. "Yes, of course." He leaned forward to wrap his arms around Cas' waist and pull him onto his lap. Cas wrapped his arms around Dean's neck and Dean moved his up to his shoulders, pulling him down into a kiss.

"And then," Dean said, nibbling at his ear, "I'm going to fuck the shit out of you."


	42. Chapter 42

"Are you nervous?" Cas asked, squeezing his leg.

Dean crossed his arms, staring at the television. "I hate that question."

"You ask it to me," Cas said teasingly.

"Well I'm always nervous, so it's a moot point," Dean grumbled. Cas sighed, and Dean sat up on the couch, uncrossing his arms and sighing himself. "Sorry. It's just... yes, I'm nervous. I hated doing this in Kansas and I'm going to hate doing it now."

"I can skip class and come with you," Cas offered.

"No," Dean said quickly. "You are not skipping school for something I should be able to do on my own."

Cas frowned. "Okay."

It was now half-way through October, and Dean's first psychiatrist appointment on the coast was that afternoon. He had just gotten back from delivering his papers and Cas had been awake getting ready for school. Expecting Dean home, he'd made them breakfast and gotten himself ready for school so that they could smoke and spend some time together before parting ways for the day.

"Have a good day," Dean said, leaning across the front seat and trying to hide a frown.

Cas turned and leaned in the window, giving Dean a reassuring smile. "Good luck. I love you."

"Thanks," Dean mumbled. "Love you, too."

Cas backed up and turned to walk away, and Dean pulled off. He lit a cigarette and turned up the radio. Roger Waters' voice poured through the speakers.

_the lunatic is in my head..._

Dean shuddered at the nonsensical laugh track. This used to be one of his favorite songs, and now it was just so unsettling. Especially when he'd heard similar laughing in his own head.

_the lunatic is in my head  
_ _you raise the blade, you make the change  
_ _you re-arrange me 'till I'm sane  
_ _you lock the door  
_ _and throw away the key  
_ _there's someone in my head_

_but it's not me_

Dean arrived five minutes early, tossing the end of his cigarette on the ground and slamming the car door behind him. He was called in quickly. Something about the person ahead of him not showing up. He followed behind the nurse, head down, wishing he'd done the same.

There was a couch and carpet, and it looked eerily similar to the office back in Kansas. The nurse asked him to confirm his name and date of birth and he did so as he took a seat on the couch.

"Hold on," she said. "I have to get your height and weight."

Dean felt his stomach knot up. "Is that... is that necessary? I haven't gotten taller," he added quickly, crossing his arms and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"You're on medication, correct?" she asked, looking up from his chart and raising an eyebrow at him.

He swallowed and nodded.

"Then yes, your weight is important to ensure you're receiving the correct dosage," she said matter-of-factly.

 _Fuck_. He felt his skin heating up and that familiar dizzying feeling creeping into his skull.

"Okay," he mumbled, standing up and moving towards the scale. He kicked off his shoes and stepped on, closing his eyes as she dragged the metal markers across the beam. He opened his eyes for a second to see the bottom one on two-hundred, and she was fiddling with the top one. He closed his eyes again. He should've known he was over two hundred, but that didn't make him feel any less ill.

"Okay," she said. "You can get off." He opened his eyes and stepped off, avoiding looking at the scale to see the final verdict. "The doctor will be with you shortly." She smiled and left, closing the door behind him.

Dean slumped back into the couch, staring off at the wall. It seemed like only seconds went by before there was a knock and the door was opening.

Dean straightened up as a tall, slender woman with fire-red hair entered the room. "Hi Dean," she said, smiling. She had a Scottish accent, and it was _thick_. She took a seat across from him, setting down her laptop and opening it up. "I'm Rowena."

"Hi," he mumbled.

"Let me just pull up your information and we'll get started, hmm?"

Dean nodded and they spent a few minutes in silence and she stared at her computer, occasionally clacking the buttons.

"So first I want to just get to know you a bit," she began.

There was no way she didn't notice Dean spending the entire session glancing at the clock every five minutes. Or fiddling with his shirt sleeves. Or scratching his nails along his jeans. But if she did, she didn't say anything.

"Okay, so we are almost done here," she said absentmindedly, typing furiously on her computer. Dean wondered how the hell there was so much to type about. He didn't feel like he'd said much. "Just two more things. How is your medication working for you?"

Dean hesitated, and she noticed. She glanced up from her computer. "Tell me," she urged.

"I'm kind of... still hearing..." He cleared his throat. "Y'know, the voice." He gestured towards his head, looking down at his sneakers.

"Has it ever stopped since you started taking the medication?"

He nodded. "I think maybe it's from the stress of moving," he said quietly.

"When did you arrive here?"

"July."

"It's been three months... Do you still feel stressed?" she asked.

"Honestly... not really, no," he admitted.

She pursed her lips. "When was the last time you had an auditory hallucination?"

He rubbed the sole of his shoe back and forth along the carpet and sighed. "This morning."

She nodded and looked back to her computer. After a few minutes, she spoke again. "I'm not sure if this is the problem, but let's try it out anyway." She paused, typing again. "Are you aware you've gained fifteen pounds since your last appointment in Kansas in June?"

Dean felt his face heat up and he crossed his arms over his stomach. He had no idea what to say, and all he could manage was, "So?"

"So," she said carefully, "you might need higher dosages. I'm sending out refills on your medications and I'm upping the dosage of two of them." She paused. "If it doesn't help, we'll talk about trying something else, okay?"

Dean nodded, avoiding looking at her. He didn't want to talk anymore. He wanted to leave.

"Okay, so I'm going to have you make your first therapy appointment with the front desk. Also make another one to see me, in four weeks, okay? Start taking your new dosage right away; it's not that much more so you shouldn't feel sick, like when you first start taking a new medication."

He nodded again, taking the papers she handed him and hurrying out into the lobby. He made the appointments quickly, not really paying attention. He was thankful when the receptionist gave him an appointment card.

As he dropped into the car, he tried to think back to what his weight was at his last psychiatrist appointment, in June, before they left Kansas. He couldn't remember. Like today, he hadn't really wanted to know.

He grabbed his papers from the passenger seat where he'd thrown them and found an overview of the visit. _Height, 6'1", Weight... 234.6_

He felt his heart sink at the realization that he was now fifty pounds overweight. _Fifty_. Five-oh. No wonder the medication written for him months ago, in April, was no longer working.

He threw the papers back onto the seat and threw the car in reverse, pulling out of the spot and peeling out of the parking lot. He felt tears stinging his eyes, and he felt like a complete idiot. He felt like this was such a _girl_ thing, yet here he was literally crying because he'd put on weight.

But the thing that bothered him the most wasn't the fact that he was fat, no, but the realization that he had no control over it. He'd been trying for the last month, and while he wasn't sure if 234 was his highest weight, his jeans certainly hadn't gotten any looser for the effort he'd put in.

He went back home on auto-pilot, letting the dog out to potty and smoking a joint. This of course made him hungry, and he tried to fight it, he really did. The depressive lack of motivation and the laziness of being high meant no cooking was going to happen- so he ate a bag of Doritos, sharing small bites with Cujo.

He zoned out to re-runs of Family Guy and finished the bag before he realized what he was doing. He got up and angrily threw the empty bag into the trash can, washing his hands and cursing himself under his breath.

Cujo just stared at him from the floor, head cocked and whimpering.

"Do you want to come with me to pick up Cas?" Dean sighed, looking down at him.

Cujo barked and did a spin, so Dean leashed him up and they left.

"How did it go?" Cas asked, lowering himself into the car and leaning forward to peck Dean on the cheek. Cujo leaned over the back of the seat to lick Cas' face excitedly.

"Tell me about your day first," Dean said as he pulled off.

"Well," Cas said, rubbing Cujo beneath the chin, "It was great. The professor's real nice... But I definitely didn't miss sitting in desks," he added, rolling his shoulders and making a pained face.

Dean nodded but didn't say anything.

"So... spill," Cas pressed.

Dean sighed. "Nothing to tell, really. They just upped my medication dosage and told me to come back in a month."

Cas frowned. "Why did they up the dosage? Is it not working?"

Dean shrugged. "It's kinda not... anymore."

Cas was quiet for a minute, looking out the window. "Why didn't you tell me?" he finally asked.

Dean bit his lip, not turning his gaze from the road. "I just didn't think it was that important, y'know? We've got a lot going on."

Cas turned to him and when Dean glanced over he felt like Cas' eyes were piercing into his soul. He quickly looked back to the road. "Dean," he said seriously, "your mental health is always of import."

Dean smiled, and he swore Cas only said "of import" these days just to get him to do it. He _had_ to know by now that no one said that. "Thank you, Cas."

Cas just nodded and rolled down the window, lighting a cigarette.

.

Cas slammed his textbook shut and sighed, tossing it onto the coffee table. He couldn't concentrate. He got up and poked his head out the front door, and was greeted with a view of Dean on his back, under the Impala.

"Whatcha doin'?" Cas asked as he walked over.

"Tinkering. How's studying going?" Dean asked from beneath the car.

Cas shrugged, then realized Dean couldn't see him. "Can't concentrate." He looked down at Dean, whose shirt was riding half-way up his midsection, just below his navel. "Nice shirt."

Dean quickly reached down to tug at the hem, but it still didn't come all the way down. He left greasy smudges on his shirt and stomach. "Shut up," he grumbled. "It's an old one. I didn't want to ruin any of the new ones you got me."

Cas smiled a little. "Well... I actually came out to ask you what you wanted for dinner."

He could hear Dean's sigh, even from beneath the car. He didn't have a creeper, so he shimmied his hips along the blacktop. He couldn't prevent his shirt from riding up completely as he did so. Once he could sit up without banging his head, he yanked it back down.

"Whatever you make is fine, Cas," he said, looking at him with slight annoyance. He got that Cas liked the way his body was changing, but why did Cas have to pick _today_ to point shit out?

"Okay. Come wash up first."

.

"Dinner's ready!" Cas called from the kitchen.

Dean emerged from the bedroom, just having changed after getting out of the shower. He took a seat and frowned down at his food when Cas set a plate larger than his own in front of him. "Can we switch?"

"I can't eat all that," Cas commented, raising an eyebrow.

"Neither can I," Dean said flatly.

"But you can..." Cas said, confused. It wasn't even that much, in his opinion; it was the amount Dean usually ate.

"Doesn't mean I should," Dean mumbled, picking up his fork and stabbing at his spaghetti.

Cas was quiet for a moment, and Dean regretted saying anything. He should've just taken a few bites and left it at that.

"I'm guessing this is about the weight gain," Cas finally said.

Dean set his fork down and sighed. "I guess, yeah."

Cas was quiet again, with that pensive look on his face he always got when he was deep in thought. "You know, Dean, you act like you're five-hundred pounds or something. You haven't gained that much, really."

Dean let out a hollow laugh and mumbled something under his breath, not looking up from his plate.

"I... didn't catch that," Cas said carefully.

"I said I'm nearly half-way there," Dean snapped, crossing his arms. He felt like a pouting child, but he couldn't help it.

Cas was quiet for a minute, most likely trying to figure out how to respond without upsetting Dean further. Finally he settled on, "I would still love you."

 _He SAYS that... But come on, do you really believe it?_ Dean dropped his face into his hands, rubbing the pads of his fingers into his eyes. _It would be like those morbidly obese people on TV, sure he would be with you, but out of obligation... and pity._

"I'm going to go to bed," Dean muttered, pushing his plate away and standing up. "Please just make sure I'm up before I have to be at work."

Cas just nodded as Dean stormed into their room, nearly tripping over the puppy gate and slamming the door behind him in frustration and embarrassment that his dramatic exit was ruined. Cujo followed him and sat at the gate, whining softly.

Cas covered Dean's plate in saran wrap and put it in the fridge, sitting down on the couch with his own and starting to eat. He couldn't figure out why it bothered Dean so much, gaining weight. He wished he could gain even a little. He hated being so thin.

He finished his plate and got up to set it in the sink. As he walked towards the bathroom he could hear Dean sniffling in the bedroom. Cujo hadn't left the gate and was still pawing at it, looking up at Cas. He'd just been out before they'd eaten, and he had been pretty good about not having accidents unless he _really_ had to go. He would probably be okay in the bedroom with Dean for a little while.

He slowly turned the handle and opened the door a few inches.

"Go on, Cas," Dean mumbled. Cas could see his back to the door. He didn't respond, only lifted Cujo over the gate and closed the door again.

Dean felt like an asshole telling Cas to go, but what choice did he have? The damn voice hadn't let up since he left the doctors office, and he needed some reprieve. He also wasn't going to let himself be a jerk to Cas, and he felt that coming- fast. In fact, he'd already started. That was the main reason he was crying. He felt completely out of control and he felt bad for snapping at Cas. So distance and a nap seemed in order.

He was rubbing his sleeve across his face when he felt the bed move. "C'mon, Cas, I-" He was cut off by puppy tongue dragging all along the side of his face. He let out a small laugh, sniffling again. "It's you." He rolled over onto his back and Cujo climbed up onto his stomach, his feet sinking into Dean's soft midsection. He laid himself down, resting his head and paws on his chest.

Dean ran his hand along his back, through his fur, over and over again until they fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs Used:  
> [Pink Floyd - Brain Damage/Eclipse (1973)](https://youtu.be/YtAgLZcyBnU?t=1m48s)


	43. Chapter 43

"Dean."

"Hmm?"

"Wake up."

He slowly opened his eyes, lifting his arm to shield them from the light. He could feel Cas' hand on his thigh and Cujo's furry body curled up against his opposite side. He slowly pulled his arm away, sitting up on his elbows.

"What time is it?" he asked groggily.

"Midnight," Cas responded.

He flopped back onto the pillow with a groan. "Five more minutes."

Cas sighed. "Come on Dean, you need to properly wake up before you drive. I don't want you to get into an accident."

Dean groaned again but sat all the way up, swinging his legs over the bed. "Alright, alright. I'm up."

Dean went into the living room to roll a joint and Cas took Cujo outside to use the bathroom. When he returned they smoked and watched Squidbillies.

_my dreams, are all dead and buried_

_sometimes I wish the sun would just explode_

"Do you want something to eat before you go?" Cas asked, glancing at the cable box. It was twelve-thirty on the dot, signaled by the start of a new episode, and Dean needed to leave at a quarter to one.

Dean shrugged, not moving his gaze from the television.

_when god comes and calls me to his kingdom_

_I'll take all you sons of bitches when I go_

Cas rolled his eyes. "Come on, Dean. You didn't eat dinner and you know you get hungry on the road for four hours. Even I do."

"Yeah," Dean mumbled.

Cas stood up and went into the kitchen and Dean could hear him opening the fridge and starting the microwave. He returned with the dinner Dean had refused earlier.

"Thank you," Dean mumbled, taking the plate from him. Once he'd finished his food, he asked Cas if he would ride with him on his route.

Cas frowned. "I'm really sorry, Dean, but... I'm exhausted, and I have school tomorrow..."

Dean nodded. "It's okay... I understand."

* * *

Leaves crunched beneath his feet as the breeze blew them in every direction. Cujo sniffed lazily, occasionally snapping at or pouncing on a leaf, but mostly staying by Dean's side. He checked his phone; he had thirty minutes before Cas' class let out. He should be able to walk there in time.

He usually picked him up in the Impala, but this morning his second appointment with the psychiatrist had revealed another two pounds added to his frame. This time he'd tried even harder, and it still hadn't mattered.

So here he was, walking two and a half miles to campus and then two and a half back.

When Cas exited the school, he titled his head and squinted at Dean, who was standing on the street smoking a cigarette. "Where's the car?" he asked as he approached.

Dean smiled weakly and tossed his cigarette. Cujo licked at Cas' hand. "I thought we could walk."

"You _walked_ here?" Cas asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise and lifting his hand to pat Cujo's head.

Dean nodded.

Cas shrugged. "Okay, let's walk."

It wasn't long before they began passing storefronts. They passed a bakery, and Cas stopped dead in his tracks. "Dean, do you want a pie?"

"No, thanks," Dean said quickly, fiddling with the handle to Cujo's leash. "I'm good."

Cas' face fell. "But... It's fall. It is _the_ time for pie. And you love pie."

 _I know, that's the problem_ , Dean thought. But he couldn't stand to see Cas so damn _disappointed_. "Okay, okay. Fine," he resigned.

Cas smiled and Dean leaned against the outside of the building with Cujo while he went into the bakery.

Cas came out with two pies. "I got pumpkin and cherry," he said happily.

Dean smiled weakly, pushing himself off the wall. "Okay, come on."

They walked the two-and-a-quarter miles to their neighborhood and turned onto the first street.

"It's so beautiful, fall," Cas said, more to himself, clutching the edge of the pie boxes against his chest with his left arm, his right at his side, grasping Dean's hand.

Dean nodded. Everything was either brown, yellow, or orange, and the leaves were being blown in circles around them by the wind. Annoyed homeowners had given up on raking. They were holding hands and walking their dog and it was gross and sappy and Dean secretly loved it.

But he still couldn't stop thinking about his appointment earlier.

_"Sweetie, the medication may increase your appetite and decrease your metabolism, but it still comes down to you watching your diet and being active."_

_"No, I definitely wouldn't recommend you stop taking your medication."_

Dean was brought back to reality when he heard Cas calling to someone. He realized Rich and Brit were across the street. While they had all become close friends over the last few months, Cas was closer to Rich, and Dean to Brit.

Rich waved them over and they crossed the street to greet them.

"Where are you guys going?" Brit asked.

"We were just heading home. I just got out of class. ...Where are you two going?"

"We're going to the bar. Why don't you guys come?" Rich asked.

Cas looked to Dean who looked torn. "I have the dog," he said, gesturing towards Cujo, who was lying on the sidewalk at their feet. He was six months old now and getting bigger every day.

Rich shrugged. "Brad doesn't care, as long as he behaves. I think we all know he will."

Dean stared at him for a minute. "You're sure," he said skeptically.

Rich nodded, knowing Dean by now. "Yes," he affirmed. "He's let dogs in before."

"Okay, so let's go," Cas said, and they followed Rich and Brit back the direction they'd came.

Soon Rich and Cas were walking ahead, and Brit and Dean were trailing behind.

"So, Cujo seems to be growing into maturity well," she said conversationally, lighting a cigarette.

"Oh yeah, he's been great." Dean paused. "But it's mostly Cas. He was prepared, and he trains with him every day and stays consistent. And he's on me to stay consistent." He laughed a little.

"That's good." She took a few drags off her cigarette before continuing. "You know, I have noticed he seems to help you."

Dean stopped in his tracks. "What?"

She didn't stop. "Keep walking." Dean started up again and she continued. "He helps you," she repeated. "With whatever you've got going on."

Dean was quiet for a minute. "How did you know?" he finally asked.

She shrugged. "I have depression. Once you're diagnosed with something, it kind of opens your eyes, and you notice the symptoms in other people." She took a drag from her cigarette. "One in five people in the US have a mental illness, you know."

Dean didn't say anything. Was it really that obvious that he was fucked in the head?

"Do you think I don't understand?" Her voice sounded far away.

"You seem to be doing okay," he said quietly, more to himself than anything.

"So do you," she said quickly. She exhaled a puff of smoke and looked at him skeptically. "But are you?"

Dean scoffed. "Not really, no." He looked up and they were standing outside the bar. Fuck, he hadn't had time to mentally prepare himself for entering with the dog. Luckily no one batted an eye and Cujo stayed right at Dean's side as they walked to a booth in the back. When they sat down, he laid at Dean's feet.

About two hours went by and while Rich and Cas were only slightly buzzed, Brit and Dean had crossed the line into drunk by taking a shot between each beer. They were having their own conversation across the table from each other as Cas and Rich next to them were engrossed in their own.

"Dean, you need to train that dog," Brit said, looking down at Cujo, who was asleep at Dean's feet.

"Huh? We... we are. Why, did he do something wrong?" he asked worriedly.

"No, no, I mean to help you. Haven't you ever heard of a service dog?" She took a swig from her beer.

"Um, those are for like, blind people, Brit," he mumbled, gripping his bottle with both hands.

"No, they are for any disability that major- majorly impacts your life. I looked it up when I was first diagnosed but I d- didn't really qualify... Not life-altering enough," she mumbled.

"Why do you think _I_ would qualify?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Because I can clearly see him helping you. Allllll the time." She sighed. "Look... tell Cas to look into it and I guarantee he will figure it out."

"Figure what out?" Cas interrupted, leaning towards their end of the table.

Rich excused himself momentarily and Brit staggered up to let him out of the booth. When she sat back down, she spent a few minutes explaining to Cas what they had been talking about while Dean zoned out, staring at his beer.

"That sounds like a great idea," Cas said when she finished. He looked over at Dean, who was still staring at his drink. "Are you ready to go, Dean? We have to feed Cujo dinner."

Dean looked up and blinked as Rich returned to the table. "Yeah."

"Thanks for hangin' out," Rich said, lifting his glass a little.

Cas nodded and grabbed the pies, giving Dean a gentle push to get him to stand up. He did, stumbling a bit, and Cujo stood back so he could regain his balance.

On the sidewalk, Cas gripped his arm tightly. "Maybe we should call a cab."

"But... the dog," Dean mumbled.

"Right." Cas called the first cab company that popped up on google and asked if they had any drivers willing to transport a dog. They had one, but it was a thirty minute wait. Cas asked to be picked up at the park down the block and they walked there, slowly, to wait.

"What do you think about what Brit said?" Dean mumbled, scraping his fingernails along the splintered wood of the bench.

Cas exhaled a cloud of smoke and ashed his cigarette. "I think it's a good idea."

"Do you really think I'd qualify?"

Cas pursed his lips. "Most likely. I don't think you realize just how much your disability impacts your life, Dean," he said flatly. When Dean didn't respond, he added, "I'll look into it."

Dean stared at Cujo and before he knew it, the cab was pulling up. They piled into the backseat and Cujo got in the middle, his front half resting on Dean's lap. It was so grounding he had to roll down the window so he didn't fall into a drunken sleep.

* * *

So maybe this wasn't the brightest idea Dean Winchester had ever come up with. He knew he shouldn't be doing this. He _definitely_ shouldn't be doing this. But it seemed like his only option. He couldn't take the side effects anymore. The migraines, the dry mouth, the sweating (even under the air conditioner), the trouble sleeping, and yes, the weight gain. He was supposed to pick up his upped dosages today after his appointment, but instead he was in the bathroom, making a very bad decision, while Cas slept in the next room.

Cas would flip out if he found out. Dean told himself he could keep it together. It would be fine.

Quitting medications cold turkey is never recommended, but since when did he follow others suggestions? He dumped the contents of all four bottles into the toilet, sighing heavily and pushing down on the handle. He then clicked off the light and left for work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs Used:  
> [my favorite Squidbillies intro](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VYakrSp9DqM)


	44. Chapter 44

"I can't believe Cas bailed on me," Brit said, pulling clothes out of her closet and tossing them onto the floor.

Dean was sitting on her bed, Cujo lying on the floor amid piles of clothes, books, and CDs. Cas had planned on going to a concert with her, but then he said he needed more time to study and begged Dean to take his place.

"Yeah, he's been really absorbed in his work lately... Of course he took more classes than necessary." He paused. "But I'm happy to go with you."

"Do you even _like_ The Queers?" she asked, turning to face him and placing her hands on her hips.

He shrugged. "They're alright. Punk's not exactly my preference, but after hanging out with Cas for so long it's grown on me."

She turned back to the closet. "Yes, found it!" Keeping her back to Dean, she yanked her shirt off and tossed it to the floor, pulling the newly found one over her head. She turned back around. "So how long have you guys known each other?"

Dean blew out a small puff of air. "Seven years."

She let out an amused laugh. "And you guys only got together a _year_ ago?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dean smiled weakly. "Yeah, well... I was dumb."

She shook her head and crossed the room to a desk and mirror, yanking open the top drawer and causing the items to roll around inside. She grabbed a couple of them and began applying make-up in front of the mirror. "Is that why you guys don't act like a couple?"

That took Dean by surprise. "Sorry, what? What do you mean?"

She shrugged into the mirror. "I think I've seen you guys kiss, like... _once_."

Dean pondered this for a minute. "Well, yeah, I guess it's because we were best friends for six years first, so... that's just kind of how we interact with each other." He paused. "Unless we're, y'know..."

"Gettin' it on?" she giggled.

Dean felt the blood rushing to his face. "I was going to say _alone_ , but..."

"Any idea what you're getting him for Christmas?" she interrupted with a smirk, turning quickly to glance at him over her shoulder.

Dean was thankful she'd changed the subject. "Yes, actually," he said proudly. "But I'm not telling anyone. Can't have you guys ruining it."

When she was done applying her makeup, she turned and held out a stick of eyeliner. "Want some?"

He laughed and held up his hand in refusal. "No, thanks. Not really my style."

"Lots of punk guys do it, but I'm not really a fan of it on guys, honestly," she said, tossing the stick back into the open drawer.

"Bet you could get Cas to wear it," he said jokingly. "He'll try anything."

She shook her head, sitting down on the floor to pull her boots on. "It would be a crime to put anything on those blue eyes."

He grinned a little. "Yeah, it would."

"Pack a bowl," she said, standing up. "My weed and stuff's in the top drawer."

She disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Dean alone in her room. He mistakenly opened the bottom drawer a bit before realizing his error, but before he could close it, something caught his eye. He opened it a little wider to find empty baggies, a few used needles, a lighter, and a spoon.

His felt a lump form in his throat and he quickly pushed the drawer closed, shaking his head in disbelief. He was _not_ expecting that. How had he not noticed she was using in all the time they'd spent together recently?

He heard the toilet flush and he quickly pulled open the top drawer and began packing up her bowl.

.

"How was the show?" Cas asked without looking up, turning a page of his textbook.

"Super fun," Dean said as he closed the front door behind him. Cujo jumped off the couch to greet him, licking his hands and rubbing up against Dean's legs. "But... I may have drank a little more than I intended..." He gave Cujo a quick pat on the head before slinking over to the couch and lying out across Cas' lap.

Cas leaned back to make room, leaving his book on the table and bringing his hand up to card his fingers through Dean's hair. "You need a haircut."

"I know," Dean mumbled into his leg. "Do you have school tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow is Saturday."

He turned his head. "Right. I forget what day it is when I work seven days a week."

Cas smiled. "I'm driving for you tonight."

* * *

Within a few days of flushing his medication, the rest of the auditory hallucinations had started back up. At first it was small things. Whispering, scraping sounds, banging. Then, as if that wasn't bad enough, on his route through California backwoods in the middle of the night, the visual ones started. He'd never had them before, but fuck if they weren't convincing. Flashes of white in the woods out of the corner of his eye, glowing red eyes in the brush, flashing lights. A fox with antlers would dash across the road. Dean wasn't sure if just the antlers were a product of his mind, or if the fox itself was even real. The people standing on the side of the road, in the pitch black, not reacting when he drove past with his high beams on, were the most unsettling. He began practically begging Cas to come with him every night, but he couldn't tell Cas why. He would insist he went back to his psychiatrist, ask for different medication. And if he found out Dean had stopped taking his medication entirely? He would lose his shit.

He became terrified of the stops in the woods where he had to get out of the car to walk and leave the paper somewhere specific. Cas had always come with him on the weekends, and now Dean convinced him to drive so he wouldn't have to look out the windshield, claiming it was just nice to get a break from driving two nights a week. But Cas could only go so many times. With all of his classes and homework, he couldn't commit to a nocturnal schedule and was becoming too exhausted to concentrate on his school work. Eventually he was only coming on Sundays because with the extra deliveries and addition of comics, Dean actually _needed_ his help if he wanted to finish on time.

Dean began drinking a little too much and a little too late, because sometimes it would help with the hallucinations, but then one am would come sooner than he realized. He would end up having to wait to sober up and go in late, and then he was so out of it that the hallucinations were worse. If he couldn't get himself together in time, and he couldn't get Cas to drive, he would call out. The other workers at the warehouse didn't care when he was late, as long as he showed up, but they were beginning to get tired of having to deliver his papers for him when he called out. But what was he supposed to do? The hallucinations and accompanying adrenaline were leaving him wrecked; he was convinced that he was eventually going to have a heart attack.

It was only a matter of time before he had his worst visual hallucination yet, alone on the road. He had only looked away for a second, to tilt his head back for the last drop of soda from the can. When he looked back to the road, there was a deer front and center. He slammed on the breaks just in time, screeching to a halt a few feet from it. For all the noise his stop had made, the deer didn't seem to notice him. He was on a straightaway, so Dean wasn't sure how he had missed it being there before he took his sip of soda. It wasn't even moving; it stood like a statue.

It stared off across the street into a field, mouth agape as if it had been chewing and suddenly stopped. Dean tapped on his horn and it slowly turned to look at him. It blinked just as slowly, and when it re-opened it's eyes, they were entirely black. No pupil, no iris, no reflection from Dean's headlights- nothing but black.

"What the f-" Dean began, but he was interrupted by what happened next.

Suddenly, layer by layer, the deer liquefied, turning into pink sludge. First the skin, then the muscle, then the organs. It poured onto the pavement until nothing but bones were left, which then collapsed into the pile.

Dean felt his heart leap into his throat. He slammed his eyes shut and took a shaky breath, only to open them and find no trace of anything in the road.

" _Jesusfuckingchrist_ ," he breathed, reaching up to twist his fingers through his hair and feeling nausea rising in his gut. He knew it wasn't real, but it still left him shaking. He was too terrified to even open the car door so he grabbed one of the plastic bags for bagging papers and held it up to his face, vomiting into it. He didn't understand why his mind had to do this to him. Reality wasn't bad enough?

He spent the rest of the night on high alert. By the time he got home, he was exhausted from the adrenaline and slept most of the day. The next night he called out and, not surprisingly, they told him not to bother coming back.

And of course, when Cas asked him why he hadn't left for work, and he told him, Cas started comforting him. Because that's just what Cas did. And it made Dean feel even worse.

"...But we just did something really stressful, Dean. We moved across the country, away from everyone we've ever known. I didn't expect you to get a job, so I don't know why you were so insistent on it," he said, sitting up next to Dean in bed and rubbing soothing circles on his back.

"Because I had to do something, Cas," Dean mumbled, facing away from him. "I just cant stand feeling like dead weight in our relationship." He paused. "Also, we moved like four months ago; I can't keep using that as an excuse." Another pause. "...And I kind of wanted to try and see if maybe I could put some money away... and go to a trade school or something... to be a mechanic."

"Well that's great," Cas said quickly, "and I think that would be really good for you, but... maybe you should just take it a little slower for now." He paused. "And you're not dead weight. I wish you would stop talking about yourself like that."

"I've been on medication for seven months Cas, when is it supposed to get better?" He still hadn't told Cas that he'd stopped taking his meds nearly two weeks ago. He knew that was probably why he lost his job, and he felt like shit about it. He wanted to tell Cas the truth, but he was sure Cas would lecture him until he started taking them again.

Cas shrugged apologetically. "I don't know, maybe it's the stress," he said softly.

"Well, then if I can't handle having a job _because I have a job_ , what the heck am I supposed to do?" he asked, frustration in his voice.

"Maybe something less stressful?" Cas suggested.

"Cas, I have like the easiest job in the world," Dean sighed. " _Had_."

"No, you didn't, Dean. You didn't have any days off and you had to be nocturnal. It's not easy and it's not good for you." He said it with such finality that Dean didn't bother to argue.

* * *

Ever since he'd seen the paraphernalia at Brit's, he'd been hyper aware of every time she was "tired", every time she excused herself to the bathroom, every time she was wearing long sleeves or a jacket yet complaining she was hot. He tried not to think about how wonderful she was feeling every time she emerged from the bathroom with hooded eyelids and slurred words.

But there were just some things you couldn't get off your mind, no matter how hard you tried.

And he tried, he really did. He tried everything the night he was fired. He smoked a joint, he walked the dog, he played guitar, he even ate an entire pie. That made him feel sick, but he still couldn't stop thinking about it. It coursed through his veins and boiled in his stomach. He smoked another joint and passed out, and when he awoke in the morning it was still right there, front and center.

Then Brit came over to hang out while Cas was out at one of his classes.


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dean and cas make bad decisions!

"Damn, so they really fired you, huh?" Brit sighed, bringing the bong to her lips.

Dean nodded. "Yeah. 'Cause I called out last night." He paused. "Can't blame 'em though. I wasn't getting the job done."

"And why was that?" she asked, exhaling her hit and holding out the bong to Dean.

He took it from her and shoved some more weed into the bowl head, shrugging. "Couldn't do the nocturnal thing," he lied. "I just hope I didn't get your friend in trouble. The one who got me the job."

"She didn't, actually. She just told you they were hiring. You got that job of your own merit," she said with a smile.

"Oh," Dean said, emptying his lungs and filling the space between them with smoke. "Well at least she's not going to get in trouble." He paused. "But apparently I didn't have the merit they thought I did."

Brit waved her hand dismissively. "Don't be so hard on yourself. Working seven days a week is hard." She looked around the living room before asking, "Wanna watch a movie?"

Dean nodded and they agreed on a Chris Farley movie. Half-way through, he noticed Brit growing more and more uncomfortable. Crossing and uncrossing her legs, scratching herself, sweating. "You alright?" Dean asked, although he knew full well what her problem was.

"Yeah," she said quickly, her eyes darting around the room. "I'm just gonna use the bathroom."

Dean nodded and she hurried off to the bathroom. Just as he heard her close the door, his phone went off. He fished through the couch cushions before locating it and flipping it open. It was Cas. _'Hey, don't forget to feed cujo lunch.'_

He responded and shoved his phone back into his pocket, lighting a cigarette and staring at the still frame on the television.

He spent the next fifteen minutes picking at his nails and rolling the ball across the floor for Cujo before realizing it had indeed been fifteen minutes. He figured he should probably check on Brit.

He hesitantly approached the bathroom door, knocked, and got no response. "Brit?" Nothing. "Brit!" When she still didn't respond, he took a deep breath and opened the door.

She was slumped back on the toilet, a needle lying on the floor.

"Dammit," Dean grumbled, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her. He couldn't honestly say that he didn't expect it. Once he saw the shit in her room, he'd known it would only be a matter of time before he caught her. "Brit!" he yelled, leaning down into her face.

Her eyes fluttered open. "Fuck," she whispered. "Dean? Shit, I- I'm s-"

"Don't apologize. Just get up." He grabbed her arms and hoisted her up, helping her stumble to the bedroom. She flopped down on the bed and rolled over, and he lit a cigarette and handed it to her.

"Dean, I'm sorry," she mumbled, closing her eyes and rubbing the side of her hand along her forehead.

"It's fine," he said, pacing at the foot of the bed. "But we need to talk."

She sighed. "You can spare me the lecture, Dean. Seriously."

He stopped. "That's not it." He paused and she lifted her head to look at him. "I want some."

She pushed herself up on her elbows and squinted at him. "What? N- no, you're crazy." She shook her head and took a drag off her cigarette, then scoffed a laugh. "You don't want this." She reached over onto the night stand and ashed her cigarette into the ashtray.

He quickly closed the gap between them, placing his hands on either side of her on the bed and leaning over into her personal space, something he'd never done before. "Yes, _I do_."

She could literally see the hunger in his eyes. "You've... used before... haven't you?" she asked softly.

"Where is it?" he pressed, ignoring her question.

She looked away, trying to avoid his piercing stare, but the lack of distance between them made it impossible. She didn't want to be responsible for his relapse, but she knew how bad the urge was, how it was all you could think about; how every cell in your brain pumped out impulses to use.

Finally she lifted her eyes to meet his gaze. "The bathroom."

* * *

"I appreciate you helping me study."

"No problem," Rich said quickly, sitting down on the couch next to Cas and setting his bag down on the floor. "I'm sorry I can't be more available when you're actually free, but I'm just happy to hang out at all."

Cas shrugged. "I know you work a lot. So whenever you're free is fine, but this test is tomorrow." He sighed. "Then it's cramming for the rest of my finals." It was already mid-December, and Cas was disappointed at the lack of snow, although he'd expected it. He was still holding out hope that maybe they'd see a little by February.

Rich looked around the room briefly before asking, "Where's Dean?"

Cas hesitated. "I... think he's with Brit."

Rich pursed his lips. "They've been spending an awful lot of time together the last two weeks," he said slowly.

Cas raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, they have. I haven't thought much about it, though... I'm just glad he's getting out of the house after he, you know... lost his job." He shrugged lazily.

"Yeah," Rich said curtly. He turned his gaze down to Cas' books. "Let's get started."

.

"Fuck..." Cas muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

"Why don't we call it a night," Rich suggested.

"No," Cas said quickly.

"Dude, you're, like, falling asleep."

"I have to keep going," he insisted. "But if you're tired I can continue alone."

Rich was quiet for a minute before sighing and reaching for his bag. He unzipped an inside pocket and pulled out a sandwich baggie. The corner was filled with white powder and tied into a knot. He tossed it onto the coffee table.

"Is that..." Cas trailed off.

"Yes. It will help you focus and keep you awake."

Cas worried his lip for a few seconds. "I don't know..." He wasn't against drug use itself; in fact, there were a few things he always wanted to try, although it was mostly psychedelics. But cocaine...?

"Look," Rich said quickly, "No pressure. I wouldn't normally offer this to anyone who doesn't already use, but Tom told me you don't like taking those pain pills you get, so I figure if you aren't addicted to those like most people who get 'em, you can, y'know... handle yourself."

"You... use it?" Cas asked, looking from the bag to Rich.

"Occasionally. I only have this right now because of how much I've had to work lately."

Cas was silent, chewing his lip and staring at the bag. He really needed to get more studying done, and he definitely didn't have time to get any sleep. It was already two am and his test was at ten. If Rich could use it occasionally and be fine, he should be able to, too.

"Okay," he said finally. "Yeah."

Rich nodded and leaned forward, fiddling with the knot to untie the bag. Cas pushed all of his books to the side as Rich pulled his ID out of his wallet, using the corner to remove a generous amount of powder from the bag. He then dumped that onto the table, using his license to move the powder into two neat lines.

He turned his head to Cas. "Do you have a straw?"

Cas shook his head and Rich pulled a dollar out of his wallet, rolling it tightly. He held it out to Cas, who shook his head again and said, "You first."

Rich placed the bill in his left nostril and leaned forward. He then pressed his finger to his right nostril and inhaled, quickly moving the bill up the line. He sniffled and sighed heavily before handing it to Cas.

"I've never snorted anything before," Cas admitted.

"It's easy," Rich said. "Just do what I did."

Cas nodded and mimicked Rich. When he pulled back, Rich was giving him a hesitant smile.

Soon Cas could feel his heart rate increasing and his body temperature rising. He was suddenly more awake than he had been all week.

"Okay, okay, let's do this," he said quickly, reaching out across the table for one of his books.

.

"Fuck, it's a quarter to ten!" Cas yelled, grabbing his stuff and frantically shoving it into his bag.

"Damn, already?" Rich mumbled. "Here." Rich made two more lines on the table, snorting one before throwing his head back and passing Cas the rolled-up bill. "Isn't Dean supposed to be home to drive you in?"

Cas quickly snorted the remaining line before handing the dollar back to Rich. There was no hesitation this time, as it was his third line of the night. He pulled the strap to his bag over his shoulder. "He, uh, he normally is." He sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve. "You know, I'm going to ace this fucking test. I can feel it."

Rich chuckled and shook his head a little. "You want me to drive you in?" he asked, shoving the small remainder of the bag back into the small pocket inside his mail carrier.

"Yeah, yeah, thank you," Cas said quickly.

"Okay," Rich said with a small laugh. "Let's go."

They clambered into Rich's pickup and drove to campus. Cas practically flew out of the car before Rich had even come to a complete stop. "Thanks! I'll talk to you later, bye!" he called over his shoulder, running across the grass to the building.

Rich just shook his head in amusement and pulled off to head to work.

When Cas returned home, rubbing his temples and groaning, he found Dean passed out on the couch. "Hey," he grumbled, nudging Dean's foot, which was hanging off the couch, with his own.

Dean slowly opened his eyes and lifted his head. He blinked at Cas. "What time is it?"

"Three," Cas replied. "Where have you been?"

He closed his eyes again and lowered his head. "Brit's."

Cas huffed a sigh. "I meant lately."

"Answer's still the same."

Cas glared at him but he obviously couldn't see it. "Are you hungry?"

"Not really."

Cas moved his gaze to Dean's lower-half, where Cujo had forced himself between his legs. He was nearly seven months old now, but he still made himself fit. "Did you take Cujo out?"

"Yeah."

Cas just stared at him blankly for a second. "Okay then. I'm going to bed."

That got Dean's attention. He cracked his eyes open and lifted his head, squinting suspiciously at Cas. "At three o'clock?"

"Yes. I was up all night studying. I'm exhausted."

"Didn't... didn't you have a test today?" he asked, closing his eyes again and settling back into the arm of the couch.

"Yes," Cas mumbled.

"How did it go?"

"It went."

"What's your problem?" Dean grumbled, opening his eyes again to glare at him.

Cas frowned. "Sorry. I'm just grumpy because I feel like shit."

"Well... don't take it out on me," Dean muttered. He crossed his arms and settled back into the couch, turning slightly to face away from Cas and effectively ending the conversation.

Cujo just stared at him. Cas gave him a quick pat on the head before walking into the bedroom. He dropped his bag by his nightstand and got undressed, tossing everything into the dirty laundry basket. As he sat down on the edge of the bed to remove his socks, he wanted nothing more than to flop back and pass out. But he really needed a shower, so he forced himself to stand up and dragged himself to the bathroom.


	46. Chapter 46

When Cas awoke, the first thing he noticed was that the room was dark. He squinted at his alarm clock and saw that it was ten pm. He groaned and raised a hand to rub the sleep from his eyes. He felt like he hadn't slept at all. After slowly getting out of bed and dressed into pajamas, he made his way out into the kitchen. He looked around for a few minutes, but nothing looked particularly appetizing except for some holiday-decorated sugar cookies he'd bought at the store a few days ago. He grabbed two and went into the living room, where Dean was still passed out on the couch. He pushed up his legs and sat down, and Dean began to stir.

"Hey, wake up," Cas said, jiggling Dean's leg.

Dean slowly blinked at him before sitting up and yawning. Cas held out one of the cookies, and Dean stared at it for a moment before deciding to take it from him.

They ate their cookies in silence while Cas turned on the TV and flipped through the channels, settling on Family Guy. Shoving the last bite into his mouth, he stood up and disappeared into the bedroom, only to re-emerge seconds later with some rolling papers and the weed.

The joint was half gone when finally Cas cleared his throat and spoke, staring down at the coffee table. "So... what's been going on with you lately?"

"Uh... w- what do you mean?" Dean responded quietly.

Cas shrugged, exhaling smoke and passing the joint back to Dean. "I don't know... I'm glad you've been spending so much time out of the house, but... I feel like you've been avoiding me... ever since you were fired. " He let out a little sigh, looking to Dean. "It's been two weeks, and I feel like I hardly ever see you."

Dean wasn't really sure what to say. While it was true he'd been avoiding Cas, it was nothing Cas had done. It was simply because he knew Cas wasn't stupid. The more time he spent around him, the sooner Cas would realize he was going downhill again- using again. He hadn't been to a therapist appointment since he flushed his medication, and he was pretty sure sometime this week his third appointment with Rowena had passed him by. Not that he cared; he hadn't planned on going anyway. His phone had plenty of voicemails from both her and his therapist, which still remained ignored.

He shrugged, rolling the joint between his fingers. "It's not that I'm avoiding you..." he began. "You've just been really busy with school, and I've been kinda lonely... so I've been hanging out with Brit."

Cas was quiet for a minute while he thought about what he'd said. _Lonely?_ That was when he realized they hadn't been intimate for nearly a week. Was Dean...? Before he could stop himself, he blurted out, "Are you sleeping with Brit?"

"Whoa," Dean said quickly, turning to look at him. "Of course not." He stared at Cas for a second before he seemed to become offended at the accusation. "How could you even think that?" he asked shakily, and Cas could see hurt in his eyes.

Cas looked down at his hands, picking some fuzz off his pajama bottoms and shrugging. "I don't know. I'm sorry."

Dean's face softened and he leaned forward, trying to look into Cas' eyes. "You know I'd never," he said softly.

Cas nodded, turning to look at him. "I know. I... I wasn't thinking."

Dean leaned back again and studied him for a minute before changing the subject. "So, seriously... how did the test go?" He reached out to grab the lighter off the table and re-light the joint.

Cas smiled weakly. "Well..." He tried to think back to the test. At the time, he'd flown through the questions with an almost scary certainty. Now that he thought back on it, he realized he couldn't even remember what any of the questions were. He frowned a little. "I... don't know."

Dean matched his frown. "You don't know?" He took a long pull off the joint and held it out to him.

Cas took it hesitantly. "I can't really remember..."

"You need to get more sleep," Dean declared.

Cas shook his head. "The semester is almost over. I'll be okay." He grinned at his next realization. "I have four more finals and then it's Christmas!"

"Yayyy," Dean said with fake enthusiasm.

Cas frowned and handed the joint back to him. "Come on Dean, aren't you even a little bit excited for our first Christmas... just us?"

"You parents weren't home last year," Dean pointed out.

Cas thought about this for a minute. "Well, yes, but that was still different. That wasn't _our_ home. Now it's _us_ , in _our_ house, with _our_ family," he said, glancing over to Cujo, who was sprawled out on his back in his dog bed, fast asleep with his legs in the air.

Dean followed his gaze and couldn't help but smile. "You're right..." he said, snuffing out the joint in the ashtray. He turned back to Cas and leaned forward. "When you finish your tests, we should go out and get a tree."

Cas smiled and Dean crawled over to him, resting his weight on him. "And then we can decorate it together," he murmured into his ear, "while we listen to Christmas songs." He may have been avoiding Cas lately, but he was determined to make it up to him; the only way he ever could.

Cas squirmed under him as his breath hit his ear, trying not to laugh. "That doesn't sound at all like you, but I'm not complaining."

Dean began laying sloppy kisses on his neck before propping himself up on his knees, which were wrapped around Cas' thighs, and letting his hands roam down his chest and abdomen, to his waist. Cas closed his eyes and hummed softly beneath his touch.

Dean tucked his fingers into the waistband of Cas' pajama pants, yanking them down and taking his semi-hard dick in his hand.

Cas' hips rutted up into Dean's fist and a small moan escaped his parted lips. Suddenly he snapped back to attention and brought his hands up to quickly unbuckle Dean's belt. He fumbled for a moment before it popped open and he noticed the waist was looser than the last time. Last time, they'd been digging into Dean's hips, and Cas could barely get his thumbs tucked into the waistband. Now they fit normally. He didn't think much of it though, as he couldn't remember exactly when the last time he was the one removing Dean's clothes was. He popped open the button and shimmied them down, taking his boxers with them.

Dean sighed, lowering himself onto Cas and taking both of their dicks in his hand, stroking roughly, trailing kisses along Cas' jawline. Cas craned his head back, exposing his throat, which Dean nibbled and sucked on, leaving patchy pink spots along his skin.

"Dean..." Cas breathed.

"What baby?" Dean pressed his lips to Cas', kissing him hungrily.

Cas' breath caught in his throat. Dean had never called him by anything other than his name before. But he didn't say anything, as Dean had spent the last few months being self-conscious and submissive. This time, Cas could tell something was different, and he wasn't going to question it. He pulled back from Dean slightly. "Be rough," he uttered.

Dean lowered his head for another sloppy kiss before pulling back and bringing his fingers up to Cas' mouth. He traced along his bottom lip with his index finger before dipping it in and pressing it against Cas' tongue. When he felt it begin to move, he stuck two more fingers in. He then removed them and brought them down to push Cas' legs apart. They spread with no resistance, and Dean briefly ran his thumb down Cas' perineum before pressing it against his entrance. He then replaced it with his index finger, slowly pushing it in.

Cas let out a little moan, lifting his hips to give Dean better access. As Dean slowly pushed in a second finger, he began twisting and scissoring to open Cas up. He then leaned back on his haunches so he could take Cas' cock in his left hand. As he stroked, he continued wriggling his fingers. Then he remembered what Cas had said: _Be rough_.

He quickly slid the third spit-slicked finger in, causing Cas' face to scrunch up momentarily before relaxing and giving way to pleasure. When he began pushing back on Dean's fingers, Dean knew he was ready. He withdrew his fingers and Cas huffed a disappointed sigh, dropping his hips back onto the couch. Dean leapt off the couch, nearly tripping on the pants around his ankles. He kicked them off and ran into the bedroom, grabbing the lube and making it back to the couch as quickly as possible.

The bottle clicked open and Dean poured a small amount onto his own dick, shuddering at how cold it was on his skin. He ran his hand up and down the length, covering it in the liquid. He then added a bit more for good measure before lining himself up with Cas. As he leaned over him, he felt Cas push his hips up, so he didn't waste any more time, quickly pushing himself in with a drawn-out groan.

When Cas only closed his eyes and gasped, he began thrusting. Slowly, at first, until Cas began panting his name. "Dean... Dean, more... More, Dean." Cas' fingers dug into his thighs, and he let out little huffs of air each time Dean thrust into him. Dean found himself picking up the pace, eyes closed and head down, Cas' voice like a mantra, unable to focus on anything but the wet heat he was burying himself into.

Dean reached down and placed his hands on the back of Cas' waist, yanking his hips upward and thrusting harder.

" _Fuuuck_ , that's perfect," Cas groaned. He tried to muffle a cry each time Dean rammed into his prostate, over and over again. He reached up and took his neglected cock in his hand, tugging roughly in an attempt to match Dean's pace.

Dean watched his face, watched the way he bit his lip and furrowed his eyebrows in pleasure. His eyes moved down his body to his fist, which was tightly wrapped around his swollen member. The sound of skin slapping skin was drowned out only by Cas' increasingly loud moans. Dean closed his eyes and tilted his head back, burying himself as far as possible into Cas.

Finally he felt Cas tighten around him and he lifted his head and opened his eyes just in time to see Cas releasing, eyes closed, mouth agape, strings of white landing on his chest. He tightened his grip on Cas' waist, digging his fingers in, as he lowered his head and came, grunting through gritted teeth. He lazily thrust twice more before pulling out, a small gasp dropping from his open mouth as the cool air hit his sensitive cock.

He lowered Cas' hips back onto the couch and sunk down on top of him, reaching up to intertwine their fingers. "Can we go lay in bed together?" he asked quietly, his voice still shaky as he floated back down to earth.

"Yes," Cas murmured, snaking the fingers of his free hand through Dean's hair. "After a shower."


	47. Chapter 47

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little bit of christmas fluff... well, the closest we'll get to fluff when they're both on drugs, eh?

_Why_ did he have to agree to this? Oh right, he'd actually fucking _suggested_ it.

Cas was finally finished with his finals and his fall semester was officially over, which meant it was time to look for a Christmas tree. Dean was dope sick and his whole body hurt, and he was freezing although it was at least forty degrees outside. It was some ungodly hour and Cas was being insufferably _perky._

"I like this one," he said excitedly. "It's perfect." He began circling the tree, making sure it had no bare spots.

Dean just nodded, arms crossed in front of him, shivering slightly. This was the third tree Cas had said he wanted, so he would believe him when the tree in question was actually strapped to the car.

"No, this one," Cas said, moving towards another tree. "It's short and fat." He circled it for a solid four minutes, inspecting every inch, before declaring, "I definitely want this one."

"Okay," Dean said distractedly.

Cas hurried off to find the owner of the lot, leaving Dean to stand there alone. He glared at the tree as if it had personally offended him. He didn't want to spend the next few days immersed in _Christmas_. It was easy to say one thing to Cas while he was riding the tail end of a high, but it was another to actually follow through, especially when he couldn't remember any of his own Christmases that weren't awful (save for last year at Cas', although they hadn't really celebrated).

He'd never decorated a tree. He'd never listened to Christmas music, or drank hot chocolate and opened presents on Christmas morning. Maybe a long time ago, but he'd been too young to remember. The Christmases he remembered were cold and lonely. The rest of the neighborhood was lit up with fancy lights and the houses were filled with families enjoying time together, and their house was always dark and quiet.

Cas returned with the guy who ran the lot and Dean found out the tree would be delivered. That was one good thing about living in the city- they catered to those without vehicles. Dean was grateful he wouldn't have to worry about needles scraping the roof of the Impala.

They climbed into the car and Dean turned on the heat even though Cas complained he was hot. Cas just cranked his window down, hanging his arm out as he drove and rambling on about some party they were apparently hosting on Christmas Eve.

Dean just nodded along with whatever he was saying, zoning out to Jimmy Hendrix's voice fading in and out from the radio.

Dean was then subjected to another torturous hour of walking around some random retail store in search of Christmas decorations. Cas seemed to be content with lights, a few ornaments, and some seasonally scented candles, and Dean was grateful their excursion was over. When they arrived home, the tree was already on the lawn.

Cas was excited. Dean felt bad; he wished he was that happy. But all he could do was drag ass and plaster a smile on his face. He was determined not to ruin this for Cas.

He helped Cas haul the tree inside. They set it up in the base and Dean pulled out his knife, cutting the netting. The tree popped open, sending needles flying everywhere. Cujo jumped lightly, but wasn't too fazed. He sniffed the tree hesitantly before slowly opening his mouth around one of the lower branches.

"No!" Cas said sternly.

Cujo pulled back and looked at him dejectedly before padding off to his bed.

Cas disappeared into the bedroom briefly before returning and ripping into the boxes of decorations with fervor. Dean excused himself and also went into the bedroom, rummaging around in the bottom drawer of his nightstand before pulling out a cigar box. Looking over his shoulder, he opened it up and located a small baggie. He briefly heard some feedback as Cas plugged his phone into the speakers in the living room and started playing Christmas music. He deduced that he didn't have enough time to inject without risking getting caught- he was just going to have to snort it.

He returned to the living room feeling much better, although he really didn't do much more than stand next to the tree swaying slightly as Cas began decorating it. He put up the couple of ornaments Cas handed him, but that was really it. When they were done, Cas turned off all the lights and closed all the curtains, and the living room was basked in the glow of only the multi-colored tree lights and the flickering candles. _It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas_ was playing on Pandora's random Christmas mix and Cas was in the kitchen, attempting to make hot chocolate by the dim light of the decorations.

It was a weird feeling for Dean. He felt like he was in a movie. He flopped back onto the couch and Cujo jumped up to lay next to him, but quickly jumped back down when Cas appeared with two mugs. "Here," he said, lowering one down for Dean to take.

Dean sat up and took it, wrapping his hands around the mug and appreciating the warmth. "Thank you."

Cas settled down next to him and they sipped in silence until Pandora switched to the next song.

Dean cleared his throat. "So, how did you like your first semester at college?" he asked hesitantly.

"It was okay," Cas said, clenching his jaw and shrugging his shoulders. "It was alright." He shifted his elbows on his knees, grasping his mug right beneath his face.

"The tree looks really good," Dean said quietly.

Cas only smiled warmly at him.

Dean set his mug down on the coffee table. "I'm kind of tired... Do you want to come to bed and nap with me?" What he really meant was he was going to go shoot up and pass out for a while, but Cas didn't need to know that.

Cas chewed his lip a bit before deciding, "I'm not tired. Maybe in a little bit."

Dean nodded and rose from the couch. "Night," he mumbled.

"Goodnight, Dean," Cas hummed, raising his mug to his lips.

Dean turned and walked into the bedroom, Cujo on his heels, _Winter Wonderland_ beginning to play behind him.

* * *

"Cas, I need to talk to you."

"What?" Cas still wasn't sure what was going on when Rich was suddenly pushing him into the bathroom and closing the door. "What's going on?"

"It's Brit," Rich said, pulling a baggie out of his shirt pocket and tapping some powder out onto the counter top.

Cas bit his lip, looking from the counter to Rich. His finals were over; he really had no need to be doing this anymore.

"C'mon, Cas, it's Christmas Eve," Rich said, before digging around in his pocket for half of a drinking straw. "Here."

"What about Brit?" Cas asked as he handed the straw back to Rich, sniffling and wiping his nose along the back of his hand.

"Look, I've known Brit for a long time," Rich started. He leaned down and snorted the remaining powder off of the counter. "Fuck," he muttered, sniffling a bit before closing up the bag and shoving it into his pocket. "She used to use, um..." He trailed off for a minute before meeting Cas' gaze. "Heroin."

Cas frowned. "Oh."

"Yeah," Rich continued. "And I'm pretty positive she's using again. It's winter, so she's been wearing jackets, so I haven't seen any track marks, but I saw some small baggies in her room, and she doesn't buy weed like that. She always buys at least an eighth at a time." He paused to take a breath. "And she's just been acting really weird, and avoiding me and spending all of her time with Dean, so-"

"Spending time with Dean," Cas interrupted him to repeat what he'd said, his eyes widening.

"What? Yeah. Anyway I-"

Cas flung the bathroom door open and rushed into the living room, where he found Dean talking to some random girl on the couch. "Dean," he said in a hushed whisper, "I need to talk to you."

Dean turned to him, confused. "About what?"

"Just come _on_ ," he urged, grabbing Dean's wrist and tugging him up off the couch.

Dean offered an apologetic shrug to the girl and followed Cas into their bedroom. "What's going on?" he asked worriedly, as Cas closed the door behind them.

Cas was pacing, his brows knitted with worry. "I just talked to Rich."

"Ooookay," Dean said. "About what?"

"About Brit." Cas stopped and looked right at Dean. "He said she's using."

Dean wasn't sure what to do with his face. Should he act shocked? Cas wouldn't believe that he hadn't noticed, with all the time they'd been spending together. But if he admitted he knew, Cas would jump right into accusing him of using again, he just knew it.

He ended up just looking confused. "Umm... okay."

Cas' lips parted slightly, and he was obviously unsure of how to respond. Finally, " _Okay?_ Is that all you have to say?" He paused. "Did you know?" he asked exasperatedly.

Dean sighed. "Yes," he admitted, looking down at the carpet.

Cas' mind was whirring. He closed his eyes for a moment to collect his thoughts. "Dean, tell me the truth- are you using again?"

Dean looked up to see Cas was staring at him again. He could see his eyes pleading to hear a _no_. He lowered his eyes again. "Of course not," he said quietly.

Cas narrowed his eyes. "You're lying."

"No," Dean said quickly, looking back up. "I'm not." They weren't going to do this now. He didn't want to ruin Cas' party. "You're being ridiculous. Don't you think you would've noticed?"

Cas stared him down for a second. He supposed he had a point, and he wanted to believe him _so_ bad. Then his posture softened, although he still looked skeptical. "Okay," he mumbled, then, more assured, "Okay."

Dean let out a small sigh of relief and closed the gap between them, wrapping his arms around Cas' waist and pulling him closer. "Now let's go enjoy the party, hmm?"

* * *

"Wake up! Wake up!"

Dean was startled awake by the mattress bouncing. He flipped over onto his back to see Cas on his hands and knees, bouncing lightly on the bed, an excited grin plastered across his face.

"What time is it?" he asked groggily, squinting around the room.

"Eight!"

Dean groaned. They'd been up until three partying. Why on earth was Cas waking him up before noon? He'd always been a morning person, but this was ridiculous. He squinted at his smiling face, trying to focus his vision. "What is that on your face?"

"What?" Cas tilted his head as if he hadn't understood the question.

"Your face." He slowly reached up and swiped his thumb across Cas' upper lip, turning his hand to show Cas the white smudge.

Cas' face fell. "Oh," he said, bringing his fingers up to touch his lip. "I was eating a powdered doughnut."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Did you save me one?"

Cas frowned. "No."

Dean feigned offense. "How could you?"

"I- I'm sorry-"

Dean cut him off. "It's fine. I was just messing with you." He gave him a sleepy smile.

"Oh," Cas sighed, the smile spreading back across his face. "Okay, but I'm serious, it's time to open _presents_."

Dean nodded and rose out of bed, ducking off into the bathroom for a piss and a morning bump before shuffling into the kitchen and making himself some coffee. "Did Cujo go out?"

"Yes, hurry! I want to open our presents."

"Jeez, Cas," Dean mumbled, walking over to the couch and looking at the few presents underneath the tree. Cas was kneeling down next to them all. The one he'd gotten for Cas was by far the biggest. "What's gotten into you lately?"

Cas felt his face heat up and he looked away. "Nothing. I just like the holidays."

"Okay, sorry," Dean chuckled. He sat down on the couch and lit a cigarette. "I just meant you're, like, all over the place lately."

Cas didn't respond, only shoved a box into Dean's lap.

Dean placed his hands on the box, giving a quick glance around the living room. "Have you seen my phone? I wanna call Sam when we're done."

"I'll call it," Cas said, smirking down at his own phone. Dean wasn't sure how, but he already had it in his hands, dialing. Suddenly a muffled _Carry on My Wayward Son_ sounded from the box.

Dean raised his eyebrows before looking over at Cas, who bit his lip and raised his back, nodding a little to encourage him to open it.

Dean set his cigarette in the ashtray and ripped open the wrapping paper. He pulled the lid off of the shoe box to find a brand new smartphone, already out of the box, charged and set up. He reached in and pulled it out carefully, running his fingers over the sleek design and admiring the smooth, flawless touchscreen. It was quite a step up from his old pre-paid flip phone.

"I thought it was time for an upgrade," Cas said from next to the tree. "It's the same number," he continued, "but it's on my plan."

Dean looked up at him and smiled. It was one of those big sideways ones Cas loved, where you could see most of his top teeth. It had been a while since he'd seen one of those. "It's awesome. Thank you, Cas."

"You're welcome." He grinned back at him.

"Now open mine," Dean said, waving his hand towards the larger present and carefully setting his new phone down on the coffee table. He picked up his cigarette and mug and took a large gulp of coffee.

Cas straightened up and settled down on his knees, reaching forward and ripping the paper off in large chunks. Once he got the majority of the paper off the top, he popped open the tabs to the box and peered inside.

"Is it a... It's a... fox?" He reached in and grabbed beneath its armpits, hoisting it out of the box. "It's a mounted fox," he said excitedly, his eyes lighting up. It was a beautiful red fox, mounted on a rock with a branch and some moss. He lifted his hand to run his fingers through the thick, soft fur on it's chest.

"But... didn't it die for this?" he asked suddenly, turning to Dean with worry on his face.

"No," Dean said quickly. "I found it."

Cas tilted his head in confusion. You didn't just _find_ mounted animals in pristine condition.

"I found it one night on my route," Dean explained, leaning forward to ash his cigarette in the ashtray on the coffee table. "It was fresh... still warm. But in good shape. So I grabbed him and dropped him off at a taxidermist."

"Oh, Dean, that's so thoughtful," Cas sighed. "Thank you so much, I love it." He looked back to the fox, bringing his hand up again to stroke it's hindquarters and down it's fluffy tail.

They opened the few remaining presents. There was a local shop they'd visited that had a huge collection of little silver animal head pendants on display in the corner. They'd both gone back separately and gotten each other a wolf and fox, respectively. And what a coincidence that the silver fox head had bright blue gems for eyes, and the wolf's were green. Cas thought it was awesome; Dean thought it was a little unsettling.

Cas had also gotten Dean some new clothes. "I'd actually gotten the sizes you're wearing, but I noticed you've lost quite a bit of weight in the last month," Cas said, pursing his lips. "So I had to go back and exchange them for smaller ones."

Dean just nodded, swirling the small remainder of his coffee around in the bottom of his mug.

"Is everything okay, Dean?" Cas asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, of course, why wouldn't it be?" Dean responded quickly, perhaps a bit too quickly, his eyes flicking up to meet Cas' gaze briefly.

Cas just shrugged and did that thing where he looked at Dean too hard and it made Dean uncomfortable. But he didn't say anything, and they opened a few toys Cas had wrapped for Cujo and spent the rest of the day alternating between playing with him and watching cable Christmas specials on the couch.


	48. Chapter 48

New Years was uneventful, just another party, and before they knew it, Cas was back in school and Dean's twenty-first birthday was fast approaching.

"Are we gonna have a party?" Brit slurred, flopped onto her bed.

Dean was sitting on the floor, leaning against the mattress and hitting the bong. He exhaled a cloud of smoke, watching it float up to the ceiling. "Who cares? Our life's one big party," he muttered bitterly.

He felt the mattress jostle as Brit moved around to face him. He set the bong down on the floor and let his head fall back onto the mattress to look at her. She shimmied to the edge of the bed, leaning over and looking into Dean's eyes. "You're right," she giggled, letting her head fall down so that her forehead pressed against Dean's.

He tilted and lifted his head, sitting up. "Don't do that."

"Do what?" she asked, propping herself up on her elbows.

"Get so touchy-feely, it makes me uncomfortable," he muttered.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. Then, "It's nothing like that though, you know that."

"I know," he said, wrapping his arms around his knees. "But Cas already thinks I'm sleeping with you, so that shit makes me feel guilty."

She straightened up. "Wait, Cas thinks you're... sleeping with me?" She paused, blinking slowly. "He said that?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders, still looking away from her. "He asked me once. Hasn't brought it up again... but I know he still thinks it."

"Well... you told him we weren't, right? You don't... you don't think he believes you?"

"Of course I told him that." Dean shrugged again. "But honestly, I'd rather him think that, than know I'm using again." He sighed. "I'd rather he thinks I'm an asshole than a failure."

"Stop, Dean," she soothed, reaching over to drag her nails along his jawline. "You're not a failure. This drug sinks it's claws in and never lets go." She brought her hands to his shoulders, digging her nails in to emphasize her point. "You can go years without using and one day the urge comes back," she continued, dragging her nails up Dean's neck and into his hair, scratching his scalp, "awakened like a primordial force, and you're completely fucking powerless again."

She pulled back and began humming to herself and preparing another shot, as if she hadn't just said some deep shit. Dean just stared off across the room at the full-length mirror that was bolted to her wall. He could see himself in it, slumped against her bed and curled in on himself. When he'd started using again, he hadn't really thought about the future. Now that he thought about it, he'd _never_ in his life thought about the future. It was always wake up, take care of Sam, get stoned and drunk, and chill with Cas. Now, he wondered if this was going to be the rest of his life- either using until he died, or struggling to get clean just to wonder when the other shoe would drop and he would relapse again.

He couldn't keep hiding this from Cas, either, but he knew coming clean would involve seeing hurt, worry, anger, and a myriad of other emotions on his face. He didn't think he could handle that, but he also didn't want to stop using, either, so he was in quite the predicament.

He was pulled from his thoughts when Brit announced their shots were ready.

* * *

It was the morning of the twenty-second, two days before Dean's birthday, and he was already on edge. Cas was fidgeting on the couch, textbooks spread across the coffee table like a feast, although he wasn't particularly concentrating on his studies. He was focused, sure, but on something else.

They'd just had a huge fight. They'd been arguing recently, but this time was different. Cas had questioned Dean on his weight loss- why he's lost what looks to be nearly thirty pounds in the last two months, why he suddenly has no appetite. Dean had shrugged, tried to play it off that they switched some of his meds around, and that maybe one had a weight _loss_ side effect this time. Cas was skeptical and still concerned. He'd said if that was the case, he needed to force himself to eat, or talk to his psychiatrist. He was losing too much too fast. It wasn't good for him.

Dean had scoffed, getting defensive, like he always does. Insisting he's fine and Cas should take care of himself, as he hadn't been looking so great lately either. And it was true. His eyes were ringed by dark circles and his cheeks were looking a little hollow. Dean had been noticing his hands shake a bit when he held a cigarette or a coffee mug.

Eventually Dean had ended up storming off into the bedroom, muttering something about taking a shower, leaving Cas alone. Cas had drawn his knees up into his chest and set his chin on them, wrapping his arms around his legs and taking shaky puffs on a cigarette. He was just so worried about Dean. Maybe if he just told Dean that, told him he wasn't trying to nag him, he would understand. Maybe he just came off too strong, too overbearing. He sniffed deeply, feeling a glob of powder dislodge itself and slide down his throat, gagging a little bit at the bitter taste.

So he'd gone into the bathroom to apologize, only to literally walk in on Dean, in only boxers and fresh out of the shower, injecting in front of the bathroom sink.

And then the buzzing in Cas' brain intensified until it was nothing but white noise as Dean looked up to meet his gaze, thumb still on the plunger, his face falling into half-surprise, half-shame.

Finally he removed the needle and as it fell into the sink, Cas could only find himself staring at it. "I knew it," was all he could think to say, his voice barely above a whisper.

Dean was rapidly approaching the jumping point for his flight, so he pushed past Cas and stumbled into the bedroom, dragging his hand along the wall for support. He sat on the edge of the mattress and lit a cigarette, taking a long drag.

Cas followed him in and stood in the doorway. "Are you... going to say anything?"

Dean turned to look at him, or at least he tried. Cas could see, even from across the room, that Dean couldn't really focus on him. "Wha's there to say?"

Cas had to think about that for a minute. He wasn't sure, exactly. Before he could respond, Dean spoke again, facing away from him.

"I broke. In early December. Imma liar. An' a piece of shit."

"Dean..." Cas didn't finish, as he still wasn't sure of what the hell he was supposed to say.

Dean left his cigarette burning in the ashtray, curling in on himself and holding his head in his hands. "You don't have to say anythin', Cas... I know what you wanna say."

Cas closed the space between them, and when he spoke, it seemed to startle Dean, who hadn't realized he'd walked over. "And what is it that you think I want to say, Dean?" He wasn't even sure himself.

Dean stared up at him for a moment. It started as an attempt to read Cas' face, but turned into Dean blinking at him slowly as he struggled to simply focus and retain consciousness. He looked back down at his hands. "That... I'm a failure... and you don't even know... why you bothered with me," he said slowly, his tongue tripping over his words.

Cas reached out and touched two fingers to Dean's collarbone, noticing suddenly that they were visible again. Dean didn't look up or respond to his touch at all. How had he missed the signs for nearly two months? He blamed himself, really. He'd been immersed in schoolwork, then Christmas, and parties, then more schoolwork... and a little more cocaine than he'd like to admit.

"Dean... you are not a failure."

With his final ounce of energy, Dean twisted himself around to lay back on the bed, curling up with his back to Cas. "How can you even say that?" he muttered bitterly.

Cas reached out again to place his hand on Dean's shoulder, but Dean twitched and shrunk away from his touch. Cas let his hand fall limply to his side. "Dean... please just talk to me," he pleaded.

"Jus' go," Dean mumbled, barely audible.

Cas knew it was pointless to try and continue, for two reasons. One, when Dean didn't want to talk, he didn't want to talk. Second, even if he wanted to, he was rapidly becoming incoherent. So he'd left and gone into the living room to study, but his mind was _anywhere_ but on his books.

Dean awoke an hour later. He rolled over and lit a cigarette, taking long drags and watching the smoke dissipate into the ceiling. He couldn't get Cas' face when he walked in on him in the bathroom out of his mind. From what he could remember, he'd interpreted shock, then anger, which was then quickly clouded by disappointment. It was why he had pushed past him. He couldn't stand seeing those emotions on Cas' face. Now that his high was gone, the guilt was worse than ever. He couldn't take a life of this- disappointing Cas, stressing him out, lying to him, hurting him. He was _so_ tired of hurting him. And he was so tired of lying to himself, too. He had just woken up and already he was thinking about using. He was never going to get clean.

Eventually he heard the back door close and Cas giving Cujo the command to settle into his kennel for the night. He snuffed the remainder of his cigarette out and settled into the pillow, pretending to be asleep to avoid conversation. He heard the door creak and suddenly the mattress was sagging and jostling slightly as Cas got undressed. He felt the blanket lift up and Cas climb underneath. Dean hoped he would hold him, wrap his arms around him and make him the little spoon, but he settled down on his side with his back to Dean's.

_Why would he want to touch you? He's fucking disgusted with you, and he has every right to be. You're just a pathetic junkie... and he's a better person than you'll ever be._

Tears stung his eyes and he tried to blink them back.

_You should just leave! Do you really think he wants you here? To support you while you lie around, useless and strung-out?_

_He feels bad, you know... He brought you out here... Thought you'd changed, gave you a chance... Now you're fucking up again... as if you'd ever stopped..._

_He's too good of a person, he won't kick you to the curb..._

Tears pooled in the corners of his eyes, dripping down and collecting on his pillow. He brought a shaking fist, wrapped in blanket, up to cover his ear, although he knew it was pointless.

_...But he should._

* * *

When he awoke in the morning, he was alone in bed. He groggily lit a cigarette and pulled on a pair of pajama pants, trudging out into the kitchen. Cas was sitting at the kitchen island, nursing a cup of coffee and looking at his phone.

"Hey," he said quietly.

"Hey," Dean returned, making his way over to the coffee maker. He held his cigarette between his lips as he made himself a cup. He then sat down next to Cas and puffed on his cigarette while he waited for his coffee to cool down a bit.

"Want some breakfast?" Cas offered.

"No thanks."

Cas nodded and went back to his phone.

The room was quiet for a few more minutes until Cas asked another question. "Are you excited for your birthday tomorrow?"

Dean tried to hide his frown, but he didn't do a very good job. "I guess." The truth was, the thought of turning twenty-one and having absolutely nothing to show for it wasn't exactly making him jump for joy.

Cas frowned back. "I'm sure it will be fun," he said cautiously. He'd been planning a surprise party, and he was hoping it would cheer Dean up. After that, then they could deal with whatever the hell was going on with him.

Dean nodded. Cas reached across the island and grabbed a joint Dean hadn't even realized was there, holding it up to show him. "Smoke?"

Dean nodded again and Cas sparked it, taking a long pull before passing it to Dean.

As Dean held in his hit, he rolled the joint between his fingers, admiring Cas' handiwork. He always rolled the perfect joints. Then he realized he was just trying to distract himself from what he wanted to ask.

"Cas... can I ask you something?" he asked hesitantly, studying the joint.

"Of course," Cas responded, reaching over to take it from him.

"Why do you bother with me?" he questioned, staring into his coffee.

Cas raised an eyebrow at him and tried not to cough, although he did a little on his exhale. "Dean..." He took a large gulp of his coffee, and that seemed to calm his coughing. He sighed. "I love you. So whatever is going on with you, I want to help you through it. I want to be with you. No matter what happens."

Dean bit his lip into his mouth and nodded. While hearing that should've made him feel better, it just made him feel worse. "So, what you're saying, is no matter what I do, you will still stay. You're... never gonna leave."

Cas nodded slowly.

"Cas..." He lifted his head to look into his eyes. "Don't you think you deserve better?"

Cas pursed his lips. "Dean, I know you're trying. We all make mistakes." He paused. "Why don't we talk about all of this after your birthday?" he suggested. "I have to go to class, but if you want to watch a movie together when I get home, you can pick one out?"

Dean nodded, not meeting his eyes. "Yeah, okay."

Cas handed him the rest of the joint. "You can finish that." He stood up and grabbed his mail carrier off the floor, lifting the strap over his head and resting it on his shoulder.

Dean quickly stood up as well. "Do you want me to drive you? It's pretty cold."

Cas smiled. "Thank you, but it's not that bad. Besides, I've gotten used to walking now. It only takes me about forty minutes." He had begun to like walking. The fresh air and exercise was great, but he also liked sniffing a bit along the way. It made his walks brisker, his body warmer, colors brighter. It really was a great start to the day.

Dean nodded but didn't say anything. Instead, he studied Cas intently.

Cas began to feel uncomfortable under his gaze. He shifted his weight around on his feet. "So... I'll see you when I get home."

Dean suddenly rushed in and took him in his arms, squeezing tightly. He buried his face in Cas' neck, inhaling his scent. "Cas," he murmured into his shoulder. "You know I love you, right?"

Cas brought his arms up to return the hug. "Of course. I love you too, Dean."

Dean lifted his head and pressed his lips to Cas', kissing him deeply. When he pulled back, he stared into his eyes for a moment. "Please don't ever forget that."

Cas offered him an unsure smile. "I won't."

Dean continued to grip him tight for a few more seconds before he suddenly dropped his arms and stepped back.

"Okay, I'll see you later," Cas smiled, giving him a small wave and turning to walk across the living room. Dean raised his hand to return the wave as Cas disappeared out the door.

Dean laid with Cujo on the couch for nearly an hour, stroking his fur and telling him how much he loved him. Cujo licked his face and slowly thumped his tail. Then he got up, heaved a sigh, and went into the bedroom to pack a bag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg what is happeningggggg


	49. Chapter 49

It was simple, really. If Cas was going to put up with his bullshit forever, _he_ would have to be the one to end this. For Cas' sake.

It had been easier to lie to himself when at least he thought Cas would eventually realize he was worthless and simply move on with his life. He thought he could enjoy this time with Cas while it lasted, until Cas inevitably moved on, once he realized Dean wasn't salvageable. But apparently that wasn't the case.

So now he'd fucked up even worse. He'd foolishly allowed Cas to get comfortable, to build a life with him, one he couldn't commit to. They weren't in their teens anymore and he couldn't handle a career and a dog and sobriety and- oh god, what if Cas wanted a _family_? He couldn't raise a fucking _kid_. And he wasn't going to deny Cas a family just because he was a pathetic fuck-up.

He also felt guilty because Cas looked like hell, and what other explanation would there be other than Dean was stressing him out? Sure, he was a little overwhelmed with school, but it was nothing Cas couldn't handle. He was a freaking genius in Dean's eyes. So it had to be Dean. Dean was the one stressing him out. Dean was the one running him ragged. Dean was the reason he looked like he was falling apart.

This is how he came to the conclusion that it really was a simple decision. Sure, Cas would be upset, but they were in California now. He had friends and he seemed to like his school and he would inevitably meet someone else, someone better. Maybe he could pursue something with Rich.

Dean found he was surprisingly okay with that thought, or at least apathetic to it. Rich was smart, and funny, and put-together. He worked more hours in a week than Dean probably spent conscious, he could help Cas with his schoolwork, and Dean wasn't sure what else he could do, but he was sure it was great. Cas would be happy. Then he would forget all about Dean, who was anxious and bitter and falling apart. Dean would just fade into a distant memory of his teenage years.

Cujo watched from the bed as Dean shoved some old clothes into the duffel bag he'd used when he first moved in with Cas back in Kansas. Dean could hear him whining softly, like he knew what was happening, or at least that _something_ was happening, and Dean had to bite back tears. This is why he hadn't wanted a dog. They didn't understand anything. He would probably never understand why Dean left him.

Once he was satisfied with what he'd thrown into his bag, he shrugged into his old green jacket, relieved to find it fit again. It was still the tiniest bit tight around the shoulders, but it wasn't uncomfortable. He didn't really give it a second thought, though; while he'd wanted to lose weight, this wasn't how he'd wanted to do it. He gave one last glance around the room, and his gaze fell upon the fox mount, which was propped up against the wall next to Cas' nightstand. Cas had been asking him for the last month if he could put it on the wall above the bed, but Dean had never gotten around to it.

He found their tools and hammered a few nails into the wall. He could at least do _something_ useful before he left. Then he grabbed the mount, sliding the holes in the back of the fake rock over the nails. Stepping back on the bed to make sure it was even, he shook his head at himself. Putting it up took less than five minutes, yet he couldn't be bothered to do it before.

He hopped off the bed and slung his bag over his shoulder, turning to give Cujo a long rub on the head. Then he bent down and wrapped his arms around his neck. "I will miss you so much, buddy. I love you. Please watch out for Cas for me."

He took his house key off his key ring, leaving the rest of them on the counter. Then he walked out the front door, locking it behind him, shoving the key into one of his jacket pockets, and walking off down the street.

He wasn't really sure where he was going, but his feet soon carried him to Brit's. He knocked on the door, and her roommate let him in and told him he was pretty sure Brit was sleeping. Dean had spent enough time there at this point that it wasn't weird when he went upstairs alone to bang on her bedroom door. She answered in short shorts and a tank top, one strap hanging down around her arm. Her hair was all over the place and her eyes were hooded. She was either fucked up, or Dean had woken her up.

"What's up?" she asked groggily, backing away from the door so he could enter. "What's with the bag?" she asked as he brushed past her.

"I'm leaving," he said quickly, turning in the center of her room to look at her.

She squinted at him for a few seconds before slowly shaking her head. "What...?" She closed her bedroom door and walked back to the bed, where she grabbed a pack of cigarettes off the nightstand. She shook one out of the pack and lit it, extending the lighter out to Dean.

"I'm leaving," he repeated, taking the lighter from her, lighting his own cigarette, and handing it back.

She tossed it back onto the cluttered nightstand. "What do you mean _leaving_? W... where are you going?"

He shrugged, dropping his bag, and lowered himself into an old bean bag chair on her floor. "Anywhere but here, I guess."

She continued staring at him, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, until she managed, "Why?"

"Because," he said quickly, but then trailed off. This was going to sound so rotten, but he wasn't sure how else to say it. "I'm leaving Cas." He closed his eyes and lowered his head, hating himself more than ever.

"What?!" she exclaimed, quickly moving across the room towards him. She got down on her hands and knees to get in his face. "Why?"

He looked up and almost sneered at her. He hated her lack of respect for personal space, but she was his friend, and a good one at that. He told her things that he'd never told Cas- mostly about the shit that went on inside his head. Social graces often fell by the wayside when you were doing drugs, so he dealt with it.

"Well first off, he fucking walked in on me shooting up," he muttered.

Brit leaned back on her knees and sucked air through her teeth. "Shit."

"Yeah. And..." he took a deep breath. "He was so disappointed, I could see it on his face, but he didn't even get angry. All he wanted was to talk to me, and... and I pushed him away." He took a drag off of his cigarette, taking a moment to collect himself before exhaling and continuing. "So this morning I talked to him and he basically said he would never leave me, no matter what I do." He looked up at her with a frown. "He didn't actually say this, but I feel like he forgives everything I do because I'm mentally ill or whatever." He mumbled the last part, looking down at his cigarette. "But it pisses me off, because it's not some excuse for me to shit all over him. I just can't keep doing it."

Brit was quiet for a minute or two, and Dean began to wonder if she was ever going to respond. Finally, she spoke in a quiet, even tone. "Dean, I think you are making a huge mistake."

He shook his head. "Cas will be so much happier-" She arched her eyebrows. "Not at first," he added, "but soon."

"You sound so sure," she said, pursing her lips.

He swallowed. "Because I am." They were quiet for a few minutes as they finished their cigarettes.

Dean snubbed his out in an ashtray on the dresser behind him and clapped his hands together. "Call Craig. I need provisions."

* * *

He shot up only once with Brit and then gave her a hug goodbye. He needed to get a move on before Cas got out of class at three. If he was still in town when Cas realized he was gone, Cas might try and find him. Dean would have to tell him what he was doing, and Cas would try and talk him out of it. Dean couldn't handle that. He'd made his decision. For this reason, he decided to turn off his phone. He wasn't sure he had the willpower to ignore Cas' desperate calls and texts.

He walked farther than they ever had before through town, head down, unable to meet anyone's eyes. He felt like he was radiating scum-of-the-earth waves and every decent, self-respecting person on the street could see them.

Finally he looked up and saw a Greyhound bus station. He went inside and looked at the locations on the board. There was one departing soon for Denver. Didn't he know someone in Denver? He thought for a moment and realized that was where they'd met Jake and Jeremy. Then he realized the tickets were nearly $150. Well, that was out. He had all of the leftover money he'd saved from doing the newspaper route for a few months, but he had spent a decent amount on Cas' fox and some other things while he was still working- cigarettes, gas, fast food. Then he'd been whittling away at what was left for heroin the last seven weeks.

Then he'd bought a weeks worth of dope from Craig, because the thought of traveling and being unable to find any was absolutely terrifying. All in all, he had about six-hundred dollars left to his name, but he knew it wouldn't last long.

He exited the building and kept walking, until the buildings turned into warehouses and he wasn't sure he'd ever even been in this part of town before, or if he was even still in San Francisco. He wasn't sure how long he'd been walking, but it felt like hours. The sun had gone down and it was cold. Finally buildings and storefronts appeared again and he happened across a bar. He'd passed quite a few, but now his legs were sore and a drink sounded amazing.

He entered and made his way to the front, sitting down on a bar stool. It was fairly empty, and only one other stool on the other end was occupied, so he dropped his duffel bag down on the seat next to him. The bartender, who was wiping down the same end of the bar he'd sat down at, shoved her rag into her apron and nodded at him. "What can I get you?"

"Jack, neat."

She turned around and grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels off the shelf, turning again and getting a glass from beneath the bar. She poured it and held it out, but when Dean reached for it, she pulled it back a little and raised an eyebrow at him. "I.D.?"

He smirked and reached into his back pocket for his wallet. He flashed her his I.D. and she checked her watch. "Twelve-oh-five," she said, giving an impressed nod. "Here ya go, birthday boy."

He re-pocketed his wallet and took the drink from her, still smirking. He tilted his head back and drained the glass, placing it back on the counter. "Another. ...Please."

She nodded and poured him another one. As she did so, he realized there was only a third of the bottle left. "You can leave the bottle." She raised another eyebrow but left the bottle and walked off to tend to her other customer.

He continued refilling his glass until the bottle was empty, willing each glass to bring him closer to forgetting about Cas, even if only for a little while.


	50. Chapter 50

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: non-con

Cas hadn't thought much about it at the time, but as he sat in class he couldn't shake the feeling something was off about Dean that morning. He kept trying to brush it off and tell himself he was probably embarrassed, or felt guilty about getting caught, but something was telling him it was more than that. The clock seemed to tick even slower as the day wore on. He found himself wishing he'd brought more coke with him to sneak off into the bathroom with, but he was kind of glad he didn't. He was well aware that he was getting out of control.

Finally his last class was over and he began trudging home. When he opened the front door, Cujo was already at the door, which was unusual. Cas stepped back from the doorway to let him out to potty in the front yard. He peed quickly and then rushed back to Cas, looking up at him and whining.

"What's wrong?" Cas asked him as they went inside, closing the front door behind him. He dropped his keys on the counter and went into the bedroom, figuring Dean was sleeping, but the bed was empty. Cujo rushed past him and jumped onto the bed, turning to stand and stare at Cas.

Cas tilted his head. "Where's Dean?"

Cujo matched his head tilt, but his ears were pinned back. Then Cas noticed the fox mount on the wall. _That's weird_ , he thought to himself. _I haven't asked him about that in days._

He figured Dean went to Brit's, but he was confused as to why he hadn't taken the Impala. He plopped down on the couch and picked up the remote, clicking on the television. Cujo was immediately on his lap, still whining softly.

"What has gotten into you?" Cas asked, looking at the dog intently. Cujo just stared back. Cas pulled his phone out of his trench coat pocket and texted Dean.

_'Hey, I just got home. Where are you?'_

He set his phone down on the coffee table and tried to watch TV, but he was developing quite the headache. He pulled his tin out of one of his other pockets and opened it up to reveal a pre-rolled joint. Clicking the tin closed again with one hand, he lit the joint with the other and took a long, slow pull.

He smoked about half of it before passing out on the couch.

Cas awoke at nearly midnight, surprised at how long he'd slept. He fed Cujo, apologizing for the late dinner, and rummaged around in the fridge for something for himself. He was just sitting down to eat when he realized Dean still wasn't home- or, at least, he didn't think so. He checked the bedroom again and it was empty. Disappointed and starting to worry, he sat down to eat his food and texted Dean again.

_'You okay?'_

He tried to tell himself Dean had been pulling this shit for the last two months, so he shouldn't be surprised, but he felt like tonight was different. Dean usually at least texted him back within a few hours, and literally every bone in his body was telling him he should be worrying. He finished his food and took Cujo out back. When they came back inside, he smoked the last half of the joint and absentmindedly watched Robot Chicken, even though he wasn't a huge fan of the show. By one he found he was tired again, so he crawled into bed, alone. The sheets were cold and although he had the bed to himself, he found himself sticking to his side.

He texted Dean one more time, now that it was past midnight. _'Happy birthday!'_

He heard Cujo whining from his kennel for the first few minutes, which wasn't like him, but he quickly settled down. Cas tried to fall asleep, but he was cold and kind of lonely. He got up and padded out into the living room, unlatching Cujo's kennel. As if he knew why he'd been let out, he hurried past Cas and into the bedroom, jumping up on the bed. Cas had to stifle a laugh when he actually started shoving his nose beneath the covers and lifting his head, trying to fling the blanket over himself.

Cas climbed back into bed and lifted the blanket so Cujo could climb underneath. Cas settled on his side with his legs slightly bent, and Cujo curled himself up into a ball right behind Cas' knees. Cas felt much better with a warm body up against him, and they both fell asleep quickly.

* * *

" _Hey._ "

Dean turned to see where the impatient voice was coming from. He'd thought he'd heard someone trying to get his attention for the last minute or so, but these days he wasn't sure what was a hallucination and what wasn't, so he'd been ignoring it.

A hazy giggle floated to his ears. "Wow, you're pretty out of it."

On the stool next to him sat a woman in her late twenties. She had long brown hair with choppy bangs and was wearing a simple black tee shirt and blue jeans. "Umm... yeah," he said slowly.

"This place is about to close... Why are you here so late all alone?"

He shrugged, looking down at his drink. "Nowhere else to be."

She looked him up and down. "I'm just wondering why you'd be _here_ drinking alone, overpaying for booze, when you could be _home_ drinking alone."

He scoffed lightly, looking away. "I'm not here lookin' for a lay... if that's what you're askin'."

She smirked and sipped her own drink. "I know. You haven't talked to anyone but the bartender since you got here." When Dean didn't respond, she continued. "So, what, you homeless or somethin', then?"

He turned to her, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "How the hell did you know that?"

She smiled. "Who brings a duffel bag into a bar?"

His face relaxed and he gave a small nod. "Touché."

She studied him for a moment, swirling her drink in her glass. "You can crash at my place, if you want," she offered, shrugging her shoulders noncommittally.

He gave her a quizzical look. "Why? You don't even know me." He paused. "What if I was some kinda psycho?"

She shrugged, offering him a sweet smile. "If you were, I don't think you'd say that."

He studied her now, before deciding she seemed harmless enough. He really had nowhere else to go anyway. It was either sleep on the streets in January (at least is was California), or blow money on a motel, and he'd already spent enough on bar booze. "Okay. Sure."

He squared up with the bartender and followed her outside, where they smoked a cigarette on the sidewalk as they waited for her cab.

"So, what's your name?"

"Dean."

"I'm Katie."

Silence settled between them until they arrived at her apartment building. They rode the elevator up, Dean swaying slightly in an attempt to keep his balance. The doors opened on the third floor and he followed her down a narrow, poorly-lit hallway. The floor was lined with dingy blue and white checkerboard linoleum tiles, and he tried to land his steps on alternate colors to keep himself walking a straight line.

They came to a brown door with golden letters on it, and she jammed the key in the handle and swung the door open to reveal a small, dark studio apartment. She flicked the light on and the room was mostly empty except for an old tattered couch, a bed in the corner, a desk with a few papers scattered atop it, and a TV on a small table.

"It's not much," she shrugged. "But it's warm."

"Thanks... Uh, can I use your bathroom?"

"Yeah, that door right there," she said, pointing to Dean's left. She walked off into the kitchen and started rummaging through the fridge.

He hit the light switch and the bulb slowly blinked to life. Closing and locking the door behind him, he closed the lid to the toilet and dropped his bag onto it, rummaging through it for his gear.

When he emerged from the bathroom, the light was off again and the living room was basked in the dull blue-gray glow of the television. She was sitting on the couch smoking a cigarette and nursing a beer, so he sat down on the opposite end of the couch, dropping his bag at his feet and sinking back into the cushion.

Almost immediately he felt a hand on his thigh. He slowly brought his gaze down to see her sliding her hand over to his crotch. "Whoa... what're you-"

"Shh shh shh." She moved so she was on her knees and climbed over to his side of the couch, bringing her lips to his ear. "Just relax."

He tried to shrink away, but she gently took his chin between her thumb and index finger and turned his head to face her, planting a kiss on his lips.

He mustered up as much strength as he could to pull his head away. "I..."

She seemed to be on his lap in a second, taking his face in her hands and grazing her thumbs along his stubble. He tilted his head back as a small sigh escaped his lips. As much as he wasn't interested, her touch _did_ feel good, especially while he was so high. He couldn't stop himself from reacting.

She quickly shoved off his jacket and yanked his shirt off over his head, kissing along his neck. Then she was unbuckling his belt and shimmying his pants down. This was all happening so fast. He was confused and barely conscious, too fucked up to push her off. He honestly wasn't even sure how the hell he could have an erection, but he could feel his dick twitching to life.

He wanted to protest, but he was beginning to nod out. Shooting up after drinking half a bottle of whiskey probably wasn't a great idea. She stood up and pushed him back so that he was lying horizontally on the couch. She finished pulling his pants off, and he blearily looked down and was surprised and ashamed to find he was actually fully erect.

She undid her own pants, dropping them to the floor, and climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. She placed her hands on his chest as she lowered herself onto him with a sigh. "Do you know what I love about you junkies?" she murmured, beginning to move her hips.

He bit his lip, trying to stifle a groan.

"You guys stay hard _forever_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, wow, that was kind of hard to write, but i want to explain my reasoning for including this scene. dean is obviously going to quickly realize he wants to go home to cas, but he is going to feel guilt about what happened, feeling like it was his fault because he was hard. although it is obvious to us that while he didn't **actually** say no or put up much resistance (because he couldn't), he also definitely didn't consent (and was in no state to consent anyway). this is a real thing that happens that i dont think gets enough acknowledgement. so anyway, he is going to feel guilty and like he cheated, and this is going to fuel him to continue on instead of returning home. :(
> 
> and by the way, fuck katie because she totally knew **exactly** what the fuck she was doing.
> 
> .
> 
> i know there's a lot of hurt, and there's going to be more. but i promise comfort in the end i swearrrrr


	51. Chapter 51

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i want to thank you all for all of your wonderful comments! they give me life :) you guys are awesome, and im so glad you're enjoying my story. if you've been reading and i haven't heard from you yet, please, let me know what you think! i would love to hear from you.

When Cas woke up, the sun was pouring through the window and he had a close-up of Cujo's teeth. He pulled his head back a little and blinked slowly, willing his eyes to focus. Cujo was laying alongside him on his back, feet in the air and upper lips hanging down, revealing his top row of pearly white teeth. With a sleepy smile, Cas laid his head back down on the pillow and reached a hand up to lazily stroke the fur on his chest.

Then he remembered the day before. He rolled over and grabbed his phone off the nightstand, his heart sinking when he saw that Dean still hadn't texted him back. He quickly rose out of bed and stumbled out into the living room, hoping to see him asleep on the couch. His stomach knotted up when he rounded the corner to an empty couch.

Now he was officially worried. While he hadn't actually attempted to text Dean while he was in class yesterday, it had technically been- shit, what time was it? Nine? -twenty-four hours since he'd left for school and last spoken to him. This wasn't like Dean at all. He went back into the bedroom to grab his phone, and when Cujo realized he wasn't coming back to bed, he jumped up and followed him into the kitchen. Cas opened the back door for him and he wandered out to do his business while Cas called Dean a few times.

They all went straight to voicemail.

* * *

"Get. Up."

Dean cracked open his eyes and looked around the room, squinting and trying to take in his surroundings. "Where the fuck am I?" he mumbled. Sun was pouring in from a window behind him, and millions of dust particles were dancing above him like confetti. His head was pounding and his mouth was dry.

Katie was standing above him. She rolled her eyes. " _My apartment_? But I only said you could spend the night." When he didn't respond quickly enough, she continued. "And it's already nine. So go on."

He propped himself up on his elbows and squinted at her for a moment, and suddenly a vision of her naked and on top of him flashed through his mind. "Did we... did we have sex?" he asked slowly, bringing his hand up to rub his face.

She laughed. "Boy, you really _were_ fucked up." She leaned over and grabbed his bag, dropping it onto his chest. "Now hit the road."

Dean felt his stomach churn. He'd just _slept_ with this woman. He hadn't even been away from Cas for less than twenty-four hours, and he already slept with someone else.

She crossed her arms and glared down at him. "Are you deaf?"

He didn't understand why she was being so rude to him, but he figured it was something he did, so he didn't respond. He rose from the couch and stumbled out the door, clutching his bag to his chest. She slammed the door behind him, and it resonated through his body and down the hallway like a gunshot.

* * *

Cas paced nervously behind the couch as the line rang, Cujo watching him carefully. Finally, "Hey, what's up?"

"Rich, you haven't heard from Dean by any chance... have you?" he asked hesitantly.

"No, why?"

"Well... I haven't seen or heard from him since yesterday morning." Before Rich could suggest it, he added, "I already called Brit. She's not answering."

Rich frowned into the phone. "I would keep trying her. She's probably still asleep. ...Maybe Dean's there, too."

"I hope so," Cas said, his voice wavering.

"I'm doing a delivery but I'll call you back on my lunch break, okay?" He paused before adding, "I'm sure he's fine."

"Yeah, okay... Thank you."

They ended the call and Cas tried Brit again. Finally, the fifth time, she answered. "Hello...?"

"Brit," Cas said quickly. "Is Dean there?"

"Umm... no," she mumbled through a yawn. "Why?"

"Because I haven't heard from him in over twenty-four hours!" he exclaimed.

His tone seemed to jolt Brit from her post-sleep haze. "Oh... wait a sec... What time is it? ...He was here yesterday."

"When?!"

"Some time in the early afternoon I think, I can't really remember..."

Cas rolled his eyes in frustration. Sometimes talking to a junkie was like talking to a brick wall.

"He, um..." She sighed. "I'm not sure how to say this, Cas... but he said he's leaving."

"W... what?" was all Cas could manage. He could hear rustling on the other end and the flick of a lighter as Brit lit a cigarette. He found himself holding his breath waiting for her to speak.

She exhaled and it sounded more like a sigh. "I dunno, Cas. He said he treats you like shit and he can't keep doing it to you. ...Said you'd be happier."

Cas' heart was now pounding against his rib cage and he felt like the world stopped spinning for a moment. Finally he exploded. " _WHAT?!_ "

"Cas, I'm sorry-" she said quickly.

"Why didn't you call me?" he yelled, his voice cracking. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be.

"He... he told me not to tell you until- until you asked," she stammered.

Cas stuttered a few incomplete words before swearing in frustration and hanging up. He immediately dialed Dean, but it went to voicemail again. He felt his chest tightening and it was becoming hard to breathe. He threw his phone across the room, crumpling into a heap on the couch and beginning to cry. He couldn't understand why Dean would do this. Hadn't he always made it clear how much he loved him? Had his face conveyed something unintended the night he walked in on Dean? Did Dean think he was angry with him?

Eventually he gathered himself enough to collect his phone, which he was surprised to find actually hadn't broken from it's journey to the floor. Sitting back down on the couch, he opened a blank text to Dean. He wasn't sure what to write, but he knew Dean would get it when his phone was on again. He typed and erased a bunch of different texts before sending one.

_'Dean, I talked to brit. I dont know whats going on, but please just come home. Please.'_

Then he typed out one more and hit send, tossing his phone onto the coffee table and holding his head in his hands.

_'I love you'_

* * *

As Dean exited the building into the blinding sun, he realized he had no clue where he was. What bits and pieces he could remember of the night before kept popping back into his head, and while it wasn't much, it was more than enough. He was disgusted with himself. How could he sleep with someone else? He hadn't even been gone for twenty-four hours. Cas probably didn't even know anything was really out of the ordinary yet, let alone that their relationship was over. He felt dirty and riddled with guilt. Sleeping with random women he met in a bar was _not_ the reason why he had left.

He found the nearest gas station so he could shoot up in the bathroom. He rode the high behind the building for a while, smoking cigarettes, mostly letting them turn to ash between his limp fingers. Once he came down, he started walking again. He had no idea where he was going, but he kept going and soon he happened upon a truck stop. He wandered into the parking lot, feeling completely out of place. He could see through the window of the building that they had a gas station-like assortment of food, so he went in and pretended to look around.

The attendant was glaring at him suspiciously, but it was only a minute or two before another man sidled up next to him. Dean could see out of the corner of his eye that he was holding a cup of coffee. "Are you a driver?" he asked. The smirk was evident in his voice; he certainly knew Dean wasn't a driver.

"No," Dean responded, still staring at the candy bars. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten. Was it the night before last?

"So... what're you doing here?"

Dean looked up to see who he was even talking to. Next to him stood a tall, hefty man with broad shoulders and shaggy black hair. He was older, probably late thirties, and wearing a hunter green tee shirt, blue jeans, and boots.

"Umm... I actually was hoping to hitch a ride with someone," Dean mumbled, not meeting his eyes.

The guy smiled. "Where are you looking to go? I could use some company."

"I don't really care where," Dean shrugged.

"Well I'm going to Lincoln, Nebraska. How's that sound?"

Dean thought for a moment. "You really don't mind if I come with you?" he asked hesitantly, turning away from the food.

"Not at all," he said. "Long as you ain't some kinda psycho." He smiled warmly, his eyes crinkling at the edges.

Dean smiled back nervously. "Uhh, yeah," he said with a small laugh. "Okay, great. Thanks."

* * *

Yawning, Rich clocked out and headed to his truck. He climbed in and lit a cigarette before pulling his phone out of the pocket of his Dickies to call Cas back.

Cas' voice came over the line, small and tired. "Hey."

"Hey. Sorry I didn't call you on my break... I had to work through it." He stifled another yawn.

"It's alright..." Cas said, but it seemed more out of an understanding of work responsibilities than it actually being okay.

"So... did you ever hear from Dean?" Rich asked hesitantly, ashing his cigarette out the window.

"No," Cas said sadly. "...Can you come over?"

"Well, yeah... I'm supposed to, remember? For the party? Or are we... not doing that now."

There was silence on the other end of the line until Cas groaned. "Fuck, I completely forgot."

"Why don't you just cancel it, Cas?" Rich suggested.

"I can't," Cas sighed. "Too many people. There's no way to tell everyone. People will show up anyway... It's a house party."

"Yeah," Rich agreed. "You're right. Alright, I'll be there in twenty."

Cas opened the front door with red-rimmed eyes and hair more disheveled than usual.

Rich stepped in, closing the door behind him and turning to Cas. "Cas... I'm sure he's fine," he said sympathetically.

"He fucking left," Cas choked out.

Rich's eyebrows shot up. "What do you mean he _left_?"

Cas walked past him and sunk into the couch, lighting a cigarette. Rich followed and sat down next to him. "I called Brit..." he began, biting his lip. "She said he went over there yesterday and..." He took a deep breath. "He said he was leaving because he treats me like shit?" He ended the sentence with an upward inflection, as if it was a question. "And that I'd be... happier." His eyes started watering.

Rich wasn't sure what to say, so he just lifted an arm and placed his hand on Cas' shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said softly. He really wanted to offer him a hug, but he didn't want Cas to think he was trying to make a move on him or something now that Dean was gone.

Cas scoffed a little, staring at the blank television and shaking his head in disbelief. "This can't be happening."

"Why... why would he do this?" Rich asked hesitantly.

At first it seemed like Cas didn't hear him, but then he ashed his cigarette and turned to Rich. "I don't know. He's just..." He trailed off and sighed heavily. "He's fucking using again. I found out the night before last." He paused, chewing on his lip. "But I don't understand... I didn't even say anything. I mean... how could I?"

Rich raised an eyebrow. "Okay, first off, _again_? Second, what do you mean 'how could I'?"

"Yes... again. He was a user in Kansas." He paused. "And because I've been snorting coke!" he exclaimed, like it should have been so obvious what he was talking about.

"...Okay," Rich said carefully, "but that's not the same as being addicted to dope."

"It still makes me a hypocrite," Cas mumbled. "I've definitely been using more than I should."

"What?" Cas turned to him and saw Rich looked confused, seeing as he hadn't provided Cas with any since New Year's.

"I've kind of... been getting it from someone else," Cas admitted, closing his eyes.

Rich sighed. This was exactly why he hadn't hooked Cas up with his connect. "Who?"

Cas opened his eyes again. "Craig."

"Craig?!" Rich exclaimed. That _was_ his connect. "How did you get in contact with Craig?"

"Brit," Cas replied.

Rich let out a frustrated sigh, pulling out his phone and holding it to his ear.

"What are you doing?" Cas asked quietly.

"Fucking calling Brit. She's got some explaining to do. ...Brit, where are you? Okay, well you need to come over to Cas'... Yes, now." He sighed into the phone. "No, the party is not starting early. ...Fine."

"What did she say?" Cas inquired as he hung up.

"She needs a ride. Probably too fucked up to walk." He rolled his eyes. "Let's go get her," he said, shoving his phone back into his pocket and standing up.

The short ride was silent. The radio was playing softly, but Cas couldn't tell what song it was, although it sounded vaguely familiar. When they arrived at Brit's, Cas slid over in the truck to make room for her, but she didn't take up much space. As soon as she closed the car door, Rich started. "Brit... what the fuck?"

"What did I do?" she mumbled, fumbling with her seat belt.

"Well first off," Rich started, pulling back out onto the street, "you got Dean hooked on dope. Second, you didn't fucking tell anyone when Dean said he was leaving, and third why the fuck did you hook Cas up with Craig?" The words tumbled out of Rich's mouth, his volume steadily increasing, like an argument with Brit had been a long time coming.

Brit stared at him blankly for a moment before shaking her head. "Umm... wow. Okay, let me try and answer those in order... Uhh, Dean asked me for it, Dean told me not to tell Cas, and Cas asked me."

Cas, sitting between them, could feel the tension in the air. He glanced over at Rich, who was gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary.

"Brit," he said, his tone unnervingly even for how angry he seemed, "I don't care if Dean told you not to tell anyone. Why would you think that was a good idea?"

"Because he's my _friend_ , Rich."

"Okay, and Cas isn't? And what am I? Chopped fucking liver? You start using again and you basically abandon me for Dean? What the fuck?" he said angrily.

Cas could tell this wasn't entirely about the situation between Dean and himself, but something more.

"You're still my friend, Rich," she said quietly.

Rich sighed. "Okay, look. I get that you've got some kind of... _user-bond_ with Dean. But you need to tell us everything. Now."

Brit stared out the window for a moment, watching the smoke from her cigarette as it was sucked out of the car. "Maybe I can talk to Cas alone later."

Cas frowned. That didn't sound good.

"Okay, fine, but what's up with you hooking Cas up with Craig?" Rich pressed.

Brit looked to him, smirking at Cas quickly first as her eyes passed over him. "Who am I to deny someone their high?"

"You are fucking unbelievable," Rich muttered, shaking his head in disbelief as they pulled into Cas' driveway.

Once people started showing up, Cas pulled Brit into the bedroom and closed and locked the door. "Tell me everything, Brit," he said quickly.

She sat down on the edge of the bed and lit a cigarette. "Look," she said, exhaling a stream of smoke, "All I know is he stopped taking his medication, and-"

"What?" Cas gasped. Brit didn't respond. "Fuck, that explains everything," he groaned. He didn't understand why Dean would do such a thing. He seemed to be doing much better on the medication.

She waited a moment before continuing, because a million thoughts seemed to be flashing through Cas' mind. "His hallucinations were getting really bad. I... I don't know how much he's told you," she mumbled, as if she was about to spill a secret.

"Just tell me!" Cas urged.

"Well... he hated all the side effects, so... he stopped taking them cold turkey. I told him not to, but... you know Dean." She frowned. "Anyway... he said once they started, it was like a dam broke. Sometimes it would just be small things, like his name being called or his phone going off... and that's enough to drive someone crazy." She scoffed lightly and took another drag off her cigarette. "But he said other times it would be worse than it had ever been before. Like, umm... okay, one time he said he was half asleep in bed and felt someone place their hand on his arm, right? And he thought it was you so he didn't react until he realized you were lying on the opposite side of him and from the angle it was impossible or something- I don't know. But he said he opened his eyes and there was like, a hand from under the bed that was grabbing his fucking arm. And he freaked and jerked his arm away and it was gone." Her eyes widened and she took a long drag off her cigarette.

Cas was silent. Things weren't this bad in Kansas, before Dean went on medication, or if they were, he never told him. He felt bad for Dean, he really did. He also wished Dean had shared this with him before it got to this point, because now Dean was out there dealing with this alone. He moved towards the bed and took a seat on the edge next to Brit. He stared at the floor for a moment, gathering his thoughts, then turned his head to look into her eyes. "Brit... why couldn't you have told him no?"

She frowned and looked away. "C'mon, Cas... Don't blame me." She looked back at him again. "You know he would've found a way if he really wanted it." She paused. "He said it's the only time things... up here," she tapped on the side of her head, "would sometimes settle down."

Cas heaved a frustrated sigh, turning away from her. "I'm sure you're right." He wanted to be mad at her, but he just couldn't.

She leaned over and wrapped her arms around him, leaning her head on his shoulders. "I'm so sorry, Cas..." she whispered. "But maybe he'll come back."

"I hope so."

The party was probably great for everybody else, and Cas had fun, too, but not at first. He couldn't stop thinking about what Brit had said. Rich refused to give him any coke and even took his phone so he couldn't call Craig. Cas was pissed, and he told himself it was rightfully so. He was an adult, and could make his own decisions. Luckily, he walked in on someone else using in the bathroom, and being that he was the host of the party, they were willing to share.

He felt much better afterwards, although Rich was visibly annoyed. Cas didn't seem to notice though, or he didn't care. The music was loud enough to get lost in it and he found himself convinced Dean would come back. He'd just had a momentary lapse of judgement. If Cas could just talk to him, he could convince him to come home, he was sure of it.


	52. Chapter 52

"What did you say your name was again?" Dean asked as they climbed back into the cab of the truck. They'd just stopped and grabbed some dinner. Dean was relieved for all the pit stops Bryan made. It was easy to forget to eat when he was strung out, and he appreciated the structured stops for meals, although he kept it small and cheap every time.

"Bryan," the man replied, tossing an old and empty coffee cup onto the floor and filling it's place in the cup holder with a new one.

Dean nodded. "Sorry, I don't have the greatest memory."

"Drugs'll do that," he said casually as he started the truck.

"I- what?" Dean turned to him, caught off guard and unsure of how to respond.

Bryan raised a skeptical eyebrow as he pulled out into the road, breaking his gaze from the windshield to glance at Dean momentarily. "...Drugs?"

Dean looked out the windshield with his mouth open, trying to formulate a response. "How... did you know?" he asked quietly, turning to Bryan again.

Bryan gave him a sympathetic look before shrugging lightly and returning his gaze to the road. "It's kind of obvious."

Dean frowned, looking down at his bag, which was on the floor between his ankles. "Oh."

"Sorry," Bryan offered.

Dean shrugged. "Don't be." He pulled his flask out of the inside pocket of his jacket, throwing his head back and draining it.

Bryan cleared his throat as Dean shoved the empty flask back into his bag. "So, uh... why are you, uh, traveling?"

"Change of scenery," Dean replied gruffly.

"You from California?"

Dean laughed dryly. "Nope. Kansas."

"Kansas? What brought you to California?"

Dean sighed, trying to figure out how to answer. "I went with a friend." He paused, then settled on, "Wasn't for me though."

Bryan nodded. "Are you going back to Kansas?"

Dean thought for a moment. "Maybe... just to see my brother."

Bryan nodded again and silence settled between them for a few hundred miles as Dean closed his eyes and enjoyed his buzz.

* * *

When Cas awoke the next morning, he eagerly checked his phone and was disappointed to still see nothing from Dean. He called him again and of course it again went to voicemail. He heaved a frustrated sigh and rose to his feet, shuffling out into the living room, which was a disaster. Rich and Brit were both still passed out on the couch, Brit using Rich's hip as a pillow.

Cas unlatched Cujo's kennel and let him outside to potty before bringing him back in and feeding him breakfast. The sound of kibble hitting the metal bowl woke Rich, who staggered into the kitchen, stretching his arms above his head and popping his back with a wince.

"Want some breakfast?" Cas asked.

"Sure," Rich replied, fumbling with the coffee machine.

As eggs cooked on the stove, Cas texted Dean again.

_'I hope youre okay... please come back'_

* * *

Dean was woken by the sun shining down in the windshield of the cab, blaring down on his face and boring through his eyelids. He groaned and sat up, rubbing his eyes. For a second, he forgot where he was, and he began to panic. Once he remembered, he relaxed a bit, until he remembered _why_ he wasn't home in his own bed. For a moment he thought he should turn on his phone, check in with Cas, until he realized that would be a disaster. Maybe soon he could talk to him, but not yet.

He heard Bryan stirring in the pull-out cot behind him. He turned to see him propped up on one elbow, eyes squinting against the sun and hair an absolute mess. "Breakfast?" he mumbled.

Dean nodded. Bryan climbed over the seat and started up the truck, pulling out onto the main road. The trip to the nearest gas station didn't even take a minute, and soon they were inside grabbing coffee and breakfast sandwiches. Dean grabbed another pack of cigarettes, snorted a bit of dope in the bathroom to keep himself "normal", and they were back on the road.

* * *

"So... any word from Dean?" Rich asked carefully around a mouthful of eggs.

"No," Cas sighed, sitting down next to him at the kitchen island with his own plate of food.

Rich offered him a sympathetic look and swallowed his mouthful. "I'm sorry."

Cas just gave him a weak thank-you smile. They finished eating and Rich helped Cas clean up a bit before he had to head to work. They woke Brit up and Rich pushed her out the door into his truck to take her home. Before he left, he pulled Cas into a tight hug in the doorway.

"Shit'll work out, okay?" he said into his ear. "I promise."

Cas just nodded. He spent the rest of the day alternating between working with Cujo and napping with him on the couch. He ended up falling asleep around midnight waiting to hear from Dean, Cujo curled up behind his legs.

* * *

A little before midnight, Bryan pulled over onto a gravel pull-off and climbed into the back to get some sleep. Dean stretched back across the front seat and stared out the windshield at the stars. He wasn't sure what day it was, but he felt like he hadn't seen Cas in forever. Besides his first seventy-two hours in the psych ward, he hadn't gone a day without at least talking to Cas in... _years_. Since long before they actually got together. He wanted to text him, but he honestly was afraid of what Cas was going to say. He knew he was doing this so Cas could find someone who would actually treat him right, but he also knew Cas was going to be hurt and angry. He was probably going to hate him, and rightfully so.

_Don't kid yourself._

_He's probably relieved you're gone..._

He sighed, sitting up and rummaging through his bag for his stash. He did a bump and laid back down, closing his eyes and drifting off into unconsciousness.

* * *

They arrived at Bryan's destination bright and early the morning of the twenty-sixth. As he backed up to the dock of the building to deliver whatever he'd been hauling, Dean figured it would be an appropriate time to get a move on.

"Thanks so much for letting me hitch a ride, man," Dean said, climbing down from the cab. "I really appreciate it."

Bryan nodded. "It was nice to have some company." He paused. "Good luck in your travels."

Dean smiled weakly. "Thanks."

He realized as he walked off that he had no idea what day it was. He'd been sleeping on and off in the truck since they left California. He figured he should probably turn his phone on and text Cas... As much as talking to Cas was going to break his fucking heart, he also didn't want the poor guy to think he was dead in a ditch somewhere.

He powered up his phone and saw it was the twenty-sixth. He'd already been away from Cas for three days. Immediately texts from Cas popped up on his phone in quick secession.

_'Hey, I just got home. Where are you?'_

_'You okay?'_

He felt a pang of guilt as he pictured Cas growing more and more worried the longer he was gone.

_'Happy birthday!'_

_'Dean, I talked to brit. I dont know whats going on, but please just come home. Please.'_

_'I love you'_

_'I hope youre okay... please come back'_

That last one was time-stamped from the day before. He hit reply but found his thumbs only hovering above the screen, unsure of what to say. Finally, _'hey cas. im alive.'_ He took a shaky breath and hit send.

* * *

Cas was outside with Cujo when he heard his phone go off. He had just woken up and was smoking a joint on the cement patio. He jumped up and flew inside, where his phone was on the coffee table, grabbing it and nearly dropping it. A smile spread across his face and his stomach back-flipped when he saw that it was Dean, relieved that he was okay.

_'hey cas. im alive.'_

A million thoughts flew through Cas' mind and his heart was hammering in his chest. _'Dean Ive been so worried. Where are you? Please tell me youre coming home soon'_

Dean sighed. He stopped walking and looked around, noticing that he was passing a park. He sat down on a nearby bench, setting his bag down next to him and typing his response. _'i cant, cas'_

The reply was almost instantaneous. _'Why not?'_

_'because i cant keep walking all over you. its not right. but you said you wouldnt leave'_

Cas felt himself growing angry. None of this was making sense. _'Why would you WANT me to leave? Dont you want to be with me?'_

_'of course i do, cas. but you deserve better'_

Now Cas was getting really angry. _'I think I can decide that for myself dean. Im a grown man.'_ He hit send before typing out another one and sending it as well. _'Come home'_

_'just give it time, cas. you will be so much better off. youll thank me one day'_

Cas' eyes began welling up with tears and he wanted to throw his phone across the room again. _'Youre lying. This has something to do with me.'_

_'dont be ridiculous cas'_

Cas' hands were shaking. _'Ridiculous? Who are you to talk about ridiculous? Youre the one who fucking left without a word'_

Dean sighed in frustration. _'cas please... i just need you to trust me. i wouldnt be doing this if i didnt think it was the right thing to do. you know i love you more than anything.'_

Now Cas was really crying. This couldn't be happening, right? But it was. His world was crashing down around him. He felt like a dick as he typed it and an asshole once he'd sent it, but he couldn't help himself. It was how he felt. _'...except heroin, right?'_

Dean felt like his heart was being stomped on. How could Cas think that? _'cas please you know its not like that. im doing this because one of us had to end this... for your sake'_

Cas didn't realize how much he was crying until he couldn't see the screen of his phone anymore. He quickly dragged the palm of his hand across his face and started typing again. _''End this'? So thats it? After all of our years of friendship, its over just like that?'_ He hit send and began typing again. _'I think I deserve more than this dean.'_

Dean bit his lip to hold back tears. He wasn't going to cry like a little bitch in public. Maybe he shouldn't have texted Cas here... But he already had, and there was no going back now.

_'youre right. you deserve so much more. maybe one day you can see thats why i did what i did.'_

He wanted to go back, he really did. He wanted to go back the second he'd left. But he was sure he was making the right decision, so he'd continued on, and the night with Katie proved to him that he was right. He was a selfish asshole and he would always be a selfish asshole.

Cas looked up from his phone and scoffed in disbelief. He knew he should have never said anything. He knew from the beginning that it would fuck Dean up and ruin their friendship. How could he have been so stupid?

_'You know what? If you want to leave, fine. I cant stop you. Thanks for the memories'_

He hit send before he meant to, and he instantly regretted it. Part of him knew Dean wasn't thinking clearly, and that he almost never was; his brain just wasn't wired right. But another part of him was just so angry at him for leaving this way; no calls or texts for days, and not even a goodbye? While he never felt like Dean _owed_ him anything, he at least felt like he deserved more than this.

Dean stared down at his phone and couldn't help the few tears that finally broke free and ran down his cheeks. _Dammit._ While he couldn't blame Cas for being angry- at least it was a normal reaction, instead of his usual calm-no-matter-what-shit-Dean-had-just-pulled reactions- this was why he hadn't wanted to turn his phone on. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw feet walking by, and he lifted his arm to swipe the sleeve of his jacket across his face.

He sent one last text before turning his phone off again and beginning to walk. He lit a cigarette, keeping an eye out for a secluded place where he could shoot up.

_'for what its worth, im sorry. for everything.'_

Cas was instantly reminded of the last time Dean had said those very words to him- when he had first caught Dean using in the Impala over a year ago. This was it; they'd come full circle. Dean was gone now and it would only be a matter of time before he overdosed again. Cas had no idea where he was and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He wound back his arm to throw his phone again, before quickly realizing that was a bad idea and just gripping it so hard that he was surprised he didn't crack the screen. He slammed it down into the couch cushion and buried his head in his hands, choking out a labored breath and finally giving in to falling apart.


	53. Chapter 53

Once Dean came back down to earth, he realized his stash was running low. He could've sworn he'd gotten enough to last the week, and it had only been what, three days? He wandered around the city for a few hours, but only found one person who looked like a user. They were too fucked up to respond to him, so he moved on.

By some miracle, he noticed a car with Kansas plates stopped in traffic. In a brief surge of confidence (or maybe desperation), he ran up to their open car window.

_What are you doing? SHE'S GOING TO CALL THE COPS ON YOU._

He gritted his teeth and asked anyway. "I'm really sorry to bother you," he said quickly, a little out of breath from sprinting across traffic. The girl in the drivers seat looked utterly confused and a little bit frightened. "I- I noticed your plate," he stammered. "I'm just trying to get home to Kansas." He glanced up at the traffic light, which was till red, then back to her. "Are you heading back there by any chance?"

"Umm..." Her eyes flicked to the light as well, then back to him, looking unsure. Then a small honk erupted from the car behind them, and Dean looked up to see that the light was green. He let his hands fall from the car door and took a step back. She must've seen the desperation in his eyes, because she pursed her lips and said, "Get in."

He ran around the front of the car and yanked the passenger door open. The car behind them laid on their horn. Dean flipped them off before clambering in, and she took off through the intersection before he could completely close the door.

"I'm really sorry, I hope I didn't pressure you, or scare you, I just-" he started, clutching his bag to his chest and looking out the window, but she cut him off.

"It's okay," she said quickly, gripping the steering wheel tightly. "I just..." She took a deep breath and laughed nervously. "I just have really bad anxiety. You threw me for a loop. But it's fine."

"I totally understand," he said quickly. He paused, chewing on his bottom lip, trying to decide how much he wanted to share with this stranger. Finally he decided _fuck it_. "I do, too." _NO ONE CARES._ "I- I didn't even want to ask you, but I just want to get home." He didn't really want to call it home, because he didn't plan on staying, but he didn't think saying 'I'm just hitchhiking' would get him any rides. Besides, he was raised there, so calling it home technically wasn't a lie. "I'm harmless, I swear," he added, staring down at his lap.

She nodded and reached into the center console for a pack of cigarettes, fumbling one out of the pack and lighting it. She held the pack out to him, and he hesitated before taking one. "Thank you."

She nodded again. They were quiet for a few minutes before she said, "So... where in Kansas do you need to go?"

"Lawrence, but wherever is closest on your way is fine. I don't wanna inconvenience you."

"Well... I'm going to Kansas City, and it's only like forty minutes away from Lawrence, so... I can just take you to Lawrence if you want," she said hesitantly, flicking on her blinker and merging onto the on-ramp for US-75.

He blinked slowly, unsure if he should accept her offer. He felt like he was already imposing enough by running up to her in traffic and asking for a split-second decision on a ride... but if she didn't want to, she wouldn't have offered, right? _WRONG. It's called_ being polite _, dipshit. You're supposed to decline so she can be relieved but still feel like a good person for offering help. That's how people work._ He cleared his throat.

"That would be awesome. Seriously... Thank you."

She shrugged. "No problem." She reached down and turned on the radio, and Boston began playing through the speakers.

_Well I get so lonely when I am without you_   
_But in my mind, deep in my mind,_   
_I can't forget about you_   
_Good times, and faces that remind me_   
_I'm tryin' to forget your name and leave it all behind me_   
_You're comin' back to find me_

_Well I'm takin' my time, I'm just movin' along_   
_You'll forget about me after I've been gone_   
_And I take what I find, I don't want no more_   
_It's just outside of your front door_

She was singing along in as small of a voice as possible, but Dean could hear every word, and he could tell she was hitting all the right notes. She knew the songs well. Finally after the third classic rock song in a row played and she'd known the words to all of them, he commented, "You've got good taste."

She blushed a little. "Thanks. So... what's your name, anyway?"

"Dean. Yours?"

"Jo." There was a pause and she asked, "So how'd you end up stranded away from home?"

He laughed a little. "It's a long story."

She glanced over at her phone, which was clipped into a dashboard mount and open to a GPS app. "Well... we've still got three hours. ...If you want to tell it."

He looked out the window, trying to figure out why he actually had the urge to tell this girl _anything_. "First tell me what you were doing in Nebraska."

She smiled a little. "Okay. I was helping my sister move. My car is never this clean." She nodded her head towards the backseat. "I cleared it out so there was room for all her crap. I followed her up last night and now I'm heading back."

Dean nodded. "Okay. Well..." He sighed. _Don't do it._ "Long story short, I moved out to California with my, um-" He made a split-second decision that she seemed like a decent person. "-boyfriend." He paused briefly, then finished quickly, "But we kinda broke up, so..."

She didn't even flinch at the boyfriend thing, only frowned at the news of the breakup. "I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "It was my fault." _Of course it was, everything always is._ A cruel laugh echoed in his ears. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, ignoring it. Most of the time, he was pretty good at doing so.

"Oh." She paused. "Well, I'm still sorry. I'm sure you didn't do it on purpose."

He laughed bitterly. "Well, I made some really selfish and stupid choices, so maybe I kind of did."

"What did you do?" she asked teasingly.

Dean noted how much more she had opened up since he first got in the car. He felt comfortable around her, too, so he wasn't really surprised. But he was thoroughly ashamed of himself. "You'd kick me out of this car if you knew everything," he said solemnly.

She raised her eyebrows, glancing over at him quickly. "That bad, huh?" He shrugged. "As long as you didn't purposely kill anyone, I'm not going to kick you out of the car," she said quietly.

He sighed heavily and pulled his pack of cigarettes out of the chest pocket of his jacket. "I need a cigarette for this shit," he mumbled, cigarette dangling from his lips as he flicked his lighter. Once it was lit, he held the pack out to her, but she declined and lit one of her own.

"So..." He sighed again. "Fuck, I don't even know where to start. So, this guy... we've been best friends since middle school, right? Always liked each other but never said anything." He felt his face warming up talking about it, and he thought back to the first day he'd met Cas. But he quickly expelled those thoughts. He couldn't think about that now. "Anyway, we finally got together a little over a year ago, and I just..." He swallowed thickly. "I fucked everything up." He turned to look at her. "You said you have anxiety, so maybe you can understand at least a little, but I'm not right in the head. At all. And..."

_What are you doing? Shut the fuck uppppp!_

He looked away and ran his hand over his face, sighing. Might as well just say it. "I'm a drug addict. So... I don't know if you know how that is, but it worms it's way into everything. Especially relationships." He paused. "Anyway I was being a selfish dick and it wasn't fair to him... so I left." He shrugged and looked out the window, ashing his cigarette out of it. "Hitched a ride with a trucker in Cali and he dropped me off in Lincoln this morning."

_You must like the pity, don't you? Pathetic._

She was quiet for a moment before breathing, "Wow."

He scoffed. "Yeah."

"I'm really sorry," she said quietly. "That sounds really hard. I'm guessing you're not... staying friends?"

"I don't think I could handle it, honestly," Dean mumbled. "But I wish we could. It's only been three days and I miss him like hell."

She nodded. "So, you have family in Lawrence?"

"Just my brother," he replied, grateful for the steer in the conversation. "But he's underage and lives with his girlfriend and her parents, so... I won't be staying. I just want to see him... It's been over six months. I've... never been away from him for so long." He paused. "I literally raised him."

"What happened to your parents?"

Dean sighed. "Uhh... well my dad's always been pretty... absent... but before me 'n' Cas moved to Cali, some shit happened and we couldn't stay with our dad anymore, so we just... found other places to go. I went with Cas and his parents, he went with his girlfriend."

"Cas?" she said.

 _Shit_. He'd been trying to avoid saying his name. Why, he wasn't sure. He nodded.

She smiled. "That's a cute name."

He smiled back. "You should see his face. If I had a picture I'd-" He stopped and frowned when he realized he indeed had no picture, and he had no idea if he'd ever see his face again.

She laughed a little, at his joke, but quickly stopped when she noticed his change in demeanor. She turned the radio up again, and they stopped talking and just enjoyed the music for a while. Dean started to nod off in the passenger seat, and before he knew it, he was being woken with a hand gently shaking his shoulder.

"Hey, we're ten minutes away from Lawrence," she said softly, smiling a little.

He blinked slowly and stretched his arms out in front of him. "Sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep," he said through a yawn.

"It's okay."

He rolled the window down a little bit and lit a cigarette. He took long, slow pulls, watching the smoke being sucked out of the window.

"So... where do you want me to drop you off?" she asked, worrying her lip.

"Umm..." He closed his eyes, trying to wrack his brain for where he could go. "Do you know where Park Ridge is? It's like a block away from the DMV."

"I know where the DMV is."

"Cool," he said, nodding. "You can just drop me there if you want."

"Okay."

They drove in silence for another ten minutes before she pulled into the DMV parking lot and into a spot. "So..." she said, putting the car in park and looking up at him. "Good luck."

He smiled weakly. "Thanks."

"Listen..." She trailed off, looking at his face, but not into his eyes, before quickly looking away again. "If you need a place to stay or whatever, why don't you take my number."

He was quiet for a second, caught off guard that she was actually willing to associate with him again. _NO. Don't suck her into this. Let her escape now._ "Uhh, yeah, sure. Thank you."

She leaned over and popped open the glove box, pulling out a notepad and pen and scrawling her name and number on it. She ripped it off and handed it to him. "Good luck... again."

"Let me give you gas money," he said quickly, fumbling for the zipper of his bag.

"No," she said sternly, holding her hand up to decline. "It's only forty minutes out of my way. Ten bucks in gas, tops. You need it more than I do."

He looked down at the paper in his hands. "Thank you." He looked up to meet her gaze. "You're a really nice person. Thank you for the ride."

She smiled warmly and he opened the car door, clambering out and hooking his bag over his shoulder. He leaned down into the car and said, "Get home safe," before backing away and closing the door. He walked away quickly, shoving the phone number into his jacket pocket and making his way towards the street.

He smoked a cigarette as he walked, feeling a strange sense of calm as he took in the familiar surroundings. Within minutes he was staring at the wooden door that he hadn't seen since the last time he relapsed in the spring. He took a deep breath and raised a shaky hand to bang on it.

About sixty agonizing seconds went by before he could hear someone fumbling with the bolt lock on the other side and he suddenly realized- what if he didn't live here anymore? Whoever did probably wouldn't appreciate a junkie on their doorstep.

His eyes widened but before he could properly panic, the door opened and for once in his life, Crowley looked genuinely shocked.

" _Squirrel?_ "


	54. Chapter 54

Dean smiled weakly. "In the flesh."

Crowley composed himself quickly, twisting his mouth into an impressed smirk. "I know I said this last time, but this time I _really_ was sure you were dead."

Dean rolled his eyes. "If only I could be so lucky."

Crowley raised his eyebrows and backed away from the doorway, motioning his hand for Dean to enter. Dean brushed past him and stood in the center of the room, feeling as awkward and out of place as he always had when buying from Crowley.

Instead of taking his usual seat at the dining room table, Crowley moved to the left of the room, where a TV was mounted on the wall and a couch was in the center of the room facing it. "Let's have a little chat."

Dean made his way towards the couch, gingerly sitting down on the opposite end of Crowley. He glanced at the TV. Crowley was watching a nature documentary. He tried to think of what Crowley could possibly want to talk about. He was pretty sure he didn't owe him any money.

Crowley lit a cigarette and took a long drag, exhaling it while studying Dean. "Where have you been?"

"Cas and I went to California," Dean said simply.

"And now you're back?" Dean knew he meant both of them, but he knew it could also be interpreted as only him. He didn't want to explain anything, so he just nodded.

Crowley returned the nod. "So what exactly are you here for?" He smiled a little. "Last time we spoke, I recall you saying our transaction was a... o _ne time thing_."

Dean frowned at Crowley's attempt to rub it in. "And it was. Until November."

"Ah," he said with a nod. He studied Dean again. "You are filthy," he added.

Dean frowned. "Yeah. I don't have anywhere to shower, so."

Crowley leaned back and took a drag off his cigarette. "And why is that?"

Dean hesitated. "I'm, uh... traveling. I just got back into town."

"You're homeless," Crowley concluded.

Dean shrugged, but then he realized it was pointless to lie about it. "Guess you could say that."

"Tsk-tsk," Crowley said, shaking his head slowly and leaning forward to ash his cigarette in a ceramic ashtray on the coffee table. "So where's Cassie?"

Dean pursed his lips. "California."

Crowley raised his eyebrows. "Trouble in paradise?"

Dean narrowed his eyes at him. "Fuck off."

Crowley put his hands up in mock surrender. "Easy, killer."

Dean's face softened a bit, but he was still annoyed. "Are we done here?"

Crowley stared at him for a moment before looking down at his cigarette and waving his hand dismissively towards the hallway. "Why don't you go take a shower."

Dean looked unsure. "...Really?"

Crowley sighed. "Yes. Before I change my mind." He stood up and walked around the couch and disappeared into the hallway. Dean hesitated, but then stood up and followed, and Crowley was already in front of the bathroom door holding out a bar of soap, still in the box, and a disposable razor. "Take that with you when you're done," he muttered, brushing past him and turning the corner back into the living room.

"Thanks," Dean called after him. He walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him and starting the water. He quickly got undressed, letting his clothes fall into a heap on the floor and kicking them away. He stepped into the shower and couldn't help but let out a content groan as the hot water hit his face and ran down his body.

He took his time, cherishing his first shower in days. He spent special time around his groin, as he hadn't showered since before he left, and he was still shuddering at the thought of himself inside of Katie, a stranger he'd known for barely twenty minutes before she'd been riding him. Part of himself knew she most likely hadn't used a rubber. People who knowingly brought home random junkies from the bar to fuck and send on their way probably didn't care enough. He lathered up and scrubbed until it was almost painful. Once he was finished, he rinsed off and stepped out, grabbing a towel that was on the counter. He dried off and stepped in front of the mirror to shave.

He looked like crap, but what else was new? He tried not to think about it. He lathered up his face and focused on taking slow, steady strokes along his skin. Once he was finished, he rinsed his face and got dressed into some clean clothes he'd packed in his bag.

When he re-emerged, Crowley was smoking another cigarette on the couch. As Dean approached the back of the couch, he held up a hand with two gallon zip-loc bags, not even turning around. "Here."

Dean took them and dropped the bar of soap in one and the razor in the other, wiping the soap residue on his hand off on his pants. He closed the baggies and shoved them into his bag before staring suspiciously at the back of Crowley's head. "Thanks, but... why are you being so nice?"

Without turning around, Crowley muttered, "Not all dealers are bad people." Dean frowned as Crowley took another drag from his cigarette. Before he could respond, Crowley spoke again. "You're a junkie. I don't think I need to remind you what society thinks of you. But that does not make you inherently a bad person."

Dean was quiet for a moment. "...Yeah. Well... thank you. Seriously. But, um..." he fiddled with his fingers nervously. "I still need that."

"Right."

* * *

Cas must've cried himself to sleep because he awoke on the couch around noon. Immediately he grabbed his phone so see if Dean had responded to the frantic apology texts he'd sent. He hadn't. He dragged himself to the back door to let Cujo out and lit a cigarette.

He still couldn't believe this was happening. Part of him was convinced it was a nightmare. Another part, a larger part, was telling him that yeah, it _was_ happening, and it was _his_ fault. Dean was just trying to spare his feelings with a grandiose _it's not you, it's me_ exit. Cas tried to think about one interesting thing about himself, but he came up short. Maybe Dean just got bored.

He heard Cujo's collar jingle and sighed as he moved to close the back door behind him. Cujo ran into the living room and jumped up on the couch, lying down and staring at Cas. Cas walked over and placed his hand on his head, rubbing a slow circle around his skull, mashing his ears down. Cujo closed his eyes and leaned into the touch.

"I guess all I have left to do now, is train you," he said softly.

* * *

When Dean left Crowley's, it was already dark. With the disappearance of the sun, it was quickly getting colder. He flipped up the collar to his jacket and put his head down, making his way to the twenty-four hour laundromat so he could wash his clothes. They smelled pretty bad, like alcohol and sweat and cigarettes, so he had them tucked under his arm. He wasn't going to stink up the rest of his stuff by shoving them back into his bag.

The laundromat wasn't far from Crowley's. He wasn't exactly on the nicer side of town, so there were a few businesses open twenty-four hours to cater to the night owls and crackheads. As Dean shoved his clothes into the washer, he began dreading the walk across town to see Sam. He then realized he hadn't even contacted Sam, and it was already getting late. Their texts had been dropping off a bit as Dean started using again and he accepted that Sam had some sense of stability living at Jess'. He figured Cas had called Sam, until he realized that if he had, Sam probably would've texted him already. He hadn't as of that morning, but Dean had turned his phone off after that.

He started the washer and took a seat in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs. He sat his bag on his lap and fished around in it for his phone. Once it powered on, he again got an influx of texts.

Four from Cas:

_'Dean, Im sorry, I did not mean that.'_

_'I just dont understand. This doesnt make any sense to me.'_

_'Please, just come back okay?'_

_'Dean?'_

One from Brit:

_'hows it going?'_

He replied to Cas first. _'cas please stop asking me to come back. im a piece of shit and i dont deserve it'_ All he could think about was going back and having to tell Cas he'd already slept with someone else. He couldn't just _not_ tell him, and he couldn't face him and tell him either.

He sighed and opened Brit's text, hitting reply and starting to type. _'alright. just got back into kansas. DONT tell cas. he will come looking.'_ He hit send and started typing again. _'dont tell him anything. the point of this was for him to stop worrying about me.'_

As soon as he'd hit send again, a reply from Cas popped up. _'Why do you keep saying that? What did you do that was so bad? Dean I knew you were an addict when we first became a couple. Why would this change things now?'_

_'because thats not all im talking about. and im never gonna get clean so we can all stop pretending that things will get better. im just going to drag you down with me.'_

The next minute dragged on before his phone went off with another reply. _'So... are you saying youre never coming back? We are never going to see each other again?'_

_'i dont know, cas. maybe we can talk or whatever but i just need you to move on ok?'_

Three texts came in quick succession.

_'Are you serious?'_

_'Wtf'_

_'?'_

Dean realized he was hunching over his phone. He straightened up a bit and dropped his hands into his lap, looking away from his phone and blinking back tears.

 _Don't worry_ , the voice said with mock sympathy. _As soon as he finds another dick, the texts will stop._

"Because that's all I'm good for, right?" he grumbled under his breath.

"I'm sorry?"

He snapped his head up and to his left, where an exhausted-looking woman in a hoodie and sweatpants was sitting at the opposite end of the row of chairs, peering at him with suspicion.

"Uh..." He quickly pressed the power button to turn off his screen and shoved his phone into his pocket, standing up. "N-nothing. Sorry, I was just... talking to myself."

She raised an eyebrow but returned her gaze to the book in her hands. Dean wasn't even sure when she got there. He could've sworn the place was empty when he came in, and he didn't remember hearing anybody arrive.

He quickly crossed the building and pushed his way out the door, the cold air hitting him like a brick. He greedily sucked in a lungful, the fresh air a welcome change from the stale air inside the laundromat, and made his way around the corner of the building. He sunk down to the ground, sitting cross-legged and leaning against the brick building. He shakily lit a cigarette, closing his eyes and taking three long drags before pulling his phone back out of his pocket.

He opened Cas' text and hit reply again. _'yes... you will forget about me. you will wonder what you ever saw in me. i promise.'_

_'DEAN WINCHESTER, STOP IT. I HAVE KNOWN YOU FOR 8 YEARS AND I FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU MORE EVERY DAY, YOU ASS. PLEASE COME THE FUCK HOME.'_

As soon as he finished reading, a small smile twisting along his lips, one more came through. _'NOW.'_

He wasn't sure how to reply, so he took a few drags off his cigarette and thought for a few minutes. It was great that Cas wanted him back, but all of the reasons he left still persisted: he would still disappoint Cas, lie to him, stress him out, basically be nothing but a big negative dark cloud. Cas didn't need that shit in his life. Dean couldn't give him a normal life, and he deserved someone who could.

_'cas please stop asking. im not coming back.'_

Cas had hoped his last text would shake something loose in Dean, but when he received Dean's most recent text, he knew it wasn't happening. He sunk back into the couch, resigning himself to defeat, and sent one more. _'Im guessing there is absolutely nothing I can say or do to change your mind.'_

_'yes. im sorry.'_

Cas had so much more to say, but he felt like none of it would matter. So he said all he could say. _'Okay.'_ He glanced at the top of the screen and saw that it was nearly five. He had school early, so he might as well go to bed. His thoughts were going crazy and he just wanted them to stop- he was still convinced Dean was just refusing to acknowledge that he was tired of him. He wanted to text Craig, but he told himself calling it an early night was a better idea. He fed Cujo and let him out to potty before settling into bed with him for the night.

Dean swallowed, shoving his phone into his pocket and wiping his eyes on his sleeve. He stood up and made his way back into the laundromat, throwing his clothes into the dryer and inserting some quarters. He slipped back outside and the first thing he noticed were white flecks in his vision. He squinted up into the streetlight to see that it was beginning to snow. He continued around the corner again, making his way to the back of the building. There were some trees and rocks lining the empty back parking lot and a dumpster along the back of the building. He sat down against the wall next to the dumpster, hoping the shadow would allow him to not be seen by anybody that might happen by. There was just enough moonlight and light filtering over from the streetlights of the building next door, that when he shucked off his jacket and yanked up his sleeve, he could just make out the faint blue lines he needed beneath his skin.


	55. Chapter 55

When Dean came down, the snow was falling heavily and a good inch had already accumulated on the ground. He smoked a cigarette and checked the time on his phone to find it was nearly eight. Once he stumbled inside, he was relieved to find the woman in sweatpants was gone and his clothes were done in the dryer. He shoved them into his bag, zipping it up and heading out the door to begin his hike across town.

He went around Cas' road, even though it meant a longer walk. He didn't want to see his house, which was probably dark and empty because his parents probably weren't there. He wondered what the point of even having the house was. He thought about how bored and lonely Cas must have been when his parents were gone and Dean was spending time with Lisa. When he got to his own road, he thought that stopping at his father's might be beneficial. He would probably be passed out drunk in his room or not home at all. He could grab a few more clothes, maybe some food out of the fridge, and a picture of him and Cas. He'd been too strung out since Christmas to think to take any on his new phone, and he wasn't sure if Cas had brought any prints with them to California, so he hadn't bothered looking. He had nothing.

By the time he was nearing his house, another inch of snow had fallen on the ground, and a light dusting was building on his hair and shoulders. His father's car wasn't in the driveway and the lights were off. Looking around, he noticed most of the houses on the road were dark, aside from the few that still had Christmas lights up, and all of the cars in the driveways had as much snow on them as the ground did. He deduced that it must've been pretty late. He walked briskly up the driveway, his boots crunching in the snow. He stopped at the front door and reached for the handle, stopping mid-way when his heart jumped into his throat. All he could hear was falling snow and his heartbeat in his ears. He gripped the handle and turned it slowly, but it was locked. He cursed himself for leaving his keys in California and went around to the back door, but it was also locked.

"I guess I'm going in the window," he muttered under his breath. The only one unlocked was the one above the kitchen sink, and he was surprised to find the sink was empty. He was expecting to make a racket trying to climb over a pile of dirty dishes. He eased down onto the floor and made his way into the living room. It was pretty dark, but he noticed the place looked clean. He was shocked his father had kept up on anything.

Dean paused at the bottom of the stairs, straining his ears for any sound, but he heard absolutely nothing. He slowly ascended the staircase, thankful the carpet absorbed the clunk of his boots. Opening the door to his old bedroom and flicking on the light, he found his room untouched. It had been over a year, and the pieces of ceramic from the lamp were still on the floor. There was a decent coating of dust on his nightstand and dresser. He went through his dresser and closet, grabbing some extra socks, boxers, and jeans. He found a black zip-up hoodie and he quickly yanked off his jacket to put it on, then shrugged his jacket back on over it. It made it a bit tighter around the shoulders, even though it had just started getting looser, but he didn't care. He hadn't thought about how cold it would be back in the mid-west. He shoved the rest of the clothes into his bag and set it down on the floor, kneeling in front of his nightstand and pulling open the bottom drawer. It was just junk, mainly papers, but he sifted through them for a minute before finding the picture he was looking for. It was the same picture Cas had above his desk at his parents house, of them smoking a blunt in the woods. It was Cas' favorite, so when he'd made a print, he'd made another one to give to Dean. Unfortunately, Dean couldn't display it like Cas could, for fear his father would destroy it.

Looking at the picture, he couldn't help letting his thoughts wander to what he'd pushed out of his mind earlier in the car with Jo- the day he and Cas had met. Even after all the memories he'd forgotten- the horrific ones etched into his brain took up a lot of space- he remembered it perfectly.

He'd been sitting alone at lunch. His only friend, Benny, had just moved away. As per usual, he wasn't eating lunch, as he'd given any money he'd had to Sammy. Usually Benny shared with him, but he was gone now.

"Would you like some company?"

Dean looked up and was instantly met with warm blue eyes and an adorably nervous smile. He was wearing black slacks, a white dress shirt, a blue tie, and a ridiculously over sized trench coat. The kid might as well have been drowning in it. Dean thought it was quite fancy just for school- he himself was wearing dirty jeans and a ripped band tee- but he didn't comment.

He hadn't thought about guys in a while, locking that portion of his sexuality away in response to his father's dissension, accepting it as something he could never have, but this guy had immediately turned him on. Something about the mixture of innocently adorable and unbelievably hot. He'd swallowed it down though, convincing himself it was just puberty. He _was_ fourteen, after all. "Umm, sure," he'd responded, looking away.

The boy had set his plastic tray down next to Dean, lowering himself into the seat. He'd picked up a fry and dragged it through his ketchup, delicately placing it in his mouth. He chewed and swallowed, then he asked, "Why no lunch?"

The question had caught Dean off guard. "Uh, just not hungry." He shrugged and offered a weak smile. The truth was that he'd been starving, and the kid had a _burger_. He could smell it, and his mouth was watering and his stomach was growling and he just hoped the kid couldn't hear it.

The boy had popped another fry in his mouth and chewed slowly as his head tilted to the left. It stopped at a forty-five degree angle, and he'd studied Dean under a steady gaze. Finally he swallowed and said, "But you look hungry."

Dean let out a small laugh before he could stop himself. "Okay, you got me." He frowned. "I just don't have any money."

The boy had furrowed his eyebrows and matched his frown with his own. Suddenly a grumble, barely audible above the lunchroom din, came from Dean's stomach. Long fingers appeared from beneath the table, uncurling and pushing the tray closer to Dean. "You can have mine."

Dean's tongue came out to wet his lips, and he'd raised his eyes to meet the boys gaze. He'd really wanted to refuse, but his stomach wouldn't allow him, and burgers were his favorite. "Are you sure?" He paused. "What about you?"

A smile formed on the boy's lips. "I'm _actually_ not hungry, but if I were, I could buy another one. So don't worry about it."

Dean had stared at him for a moment longer before pulling the tray closer to him and digging in. "Thank you," he said through a mouthful of burger. "So, what's your name, anyway?"

He smiled a little wider. "Castiel."

With a heavy sigh, he tucked the photo into the inside pocket of his jacket, thankful it fit perfectly. He didn't want to have to fold it, and the pocket laid against the flat of his chest, so he hoped the photo wouldn't get too beaten up. He had just closed the drawer when suddenly, from behind him, he heard the sound of someone racking the slide of a shotgun.

He slowly raised his hands to level with his head, rising up to stand and turn around, now facing down the barrel of his fathers shotgun. His father wasn't the one holding it, though; it was a woman, mid-forties, in a nightgown and slippers.

"Listen, I-" he started, hands still in the air, but she cut him off.

"Who are you and what are you doing in my house?!" she demanded.

"I'm Dean," he said quickly. He assumed this was his father's new girlfriend. "John's son."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "John's son's name is Sam."

Dean scoffed, letting his hands fall to his sides. "Why am I not surprised," he muttered.

"What are you talking about?" she snapped, but her face showed piqued curiosity.

"He has _two_ sons." He paused. "I guess I'm pretty much dead to him, so I'm not surprised he didn't mention me."

She lowered the shotgun a bit, pointing it at the floor. "Yes... he didn't mention you," she said suspiciously. "Why are you here?"

Dean looked around the room. "I... I just came to get some of my stuff. I don't want any trouble, and I'd honestly prefer not to see him." A moment passed without a response. "I'll just go," he said, taking a step forward.

Just as he did, John's voice floated in from the hallway. "Baby, what are you doing?"

Dean froze, but before he could react, John appeared in the doorway behind the woman. His eyes widened. "Dean?" Then they narrowed. "What are you doing here?"

"Um, I..." Dean faltered under his hard gaze. "I, uh, came for some stuff... I was just leaving," he mumbled.

"Did you seriously fucking break into this house?" he said angrily, his fists clenching at his sides. He pushed past the woman to stand between them. "You don't live here anymore!"

Dean took a step back. "I'm sorry, I just-"

"You just what? Thought you could come back here whenever you want because you're _entitled_?"

"John..." the woman began.

"Stay out of this," he snapped at her, before turning back to Dean. "What if she shot you!?" he exclaimed.

Dean opened his mouth but nothing came out. He momentarily managed to gather himself enough to narrow his eyes and say, "Why do you even care?"

"Because then I'll have a dead body on my hands, you fucking idiot!" he yelled. Dean flinched a bit at his increase in volume. "Do you live to bring me nothing but trouble? I thought I was finally done with you!"

Dean's eyes flicked to his left, where his girlfriend stood in the doorway, mouth open slightly in awe. Apparently she'd never seen this side of John- apparently only Dean was horrible enough to bring it out of him. Seeing the look of horror on her face, he wondered what he'd ever done to deserve this. This wasn't normal. He looked up to meet John's angry gaze, the question he'd always wondered burning on his tongue. It was now or never. "Why do you hate me so much?"

Something snapped in John, and he surged forward, grabbing Dean by the front of his jacket and slamming him into the wall between his window and nightstand. "Do you really want to fucking know why?" he hissed. He stared Dean down for a moment, the smell of whiskey invading his nostrils, and Dean squirmed a little to break free from his grip. John only tightened the fists that held onto Dean's clothes. "Because you killed my fucking wife," he choked out. He pulled on Dean's jacket a bit and forced him back, trying to slam him against the wall again, but it was weak.

Suddenly Dean's ears were filled with the sound of rushing water and he struggled to speak. "W... what?"

Any sadness that had been on his father's face disappeared, replaced by anger, and his strength returned. He began shaking Dean by his jacket, each shake punctuating a word. "You... burned... down... the... house... you... stupid... fuck!"

Dean broke free from his grasp, nearly sliding to the floor. He caught himself just in time, but stayed splayed against the wall, looking wide-eyed from John to his girlfriend. She had a hand over her mouth, her eyebrows furrowed in shock and upset. "I don't understand," he stammered, "I- I don't remember-"

"Of course you don't fucking remember! You don't remember anything!" he screamed. He took a breath. "The only thing you've ever done right in your goddamn life was get your brother out of that house," he said steadily, shaking fists clenched at his sides again.

Dean's head was spinning. "But you said... Sammy-"

"Because I didn't want Sam to have to deal with what I do- not even being able to look at my own fucking son. He needs his brother, even I can see that. But what happened happened, and I can never forget it. You single-handedly destroyed this fucking family." He closed his eyes and pointed to the door. "Now get out."

Dean was frozen to the spot, but he thawed in a matter of seconds when he realized John was giving him an opportunity to leave. He must've been holding back in front of his girlfriend. He reached down and grabbed his bag, making a bee-line towards the door while keeping his head down and not looking at either of them. He should've known it would be a mistake to go there. His mind was racing with this new revelation. As he hurried down the stairs, a picture of his mother on the wall caught his eye. Without stopping, he grabbed it off the wall and shoved it inside his jacket, frame and all, holding it there as he flung open the front door and stepped out into the snow. He nearly slipped, but caught himself and made his way as quickly as possible across the yard and down the street. He only made it to the end of the block before he collapsed into a section of bushes and trees, clumps of snow falling onto his shoulders and melting into his jacket.

He didn't care. His face was hot with tears but his blood was already running cold. This couldn't be possible. Was all of this really his fault? Had he repressed that memory? He didn't remember setting a fire. He wasn't the type to play with matches. He pulled his hand out of his jacket to look at the picture, but everything was getting fuzzy. He couldn't feel his limbs. He tried to think back-

Suddenly he was encompassed in heat. He could smell smoke, and he was flying out the front door as fast as his little legs would carry him. Sammy was in his arms and Charlie was at his heels. Suddenly he was hurtling towards the ground, a consequence for slipping in a patch of mud. He spun so that he landed on his shoulder and not on Sammy. As he straightened up, he was relieved to see he was already near the sidewalk.

To his left a car peeled into the driveway, slamming on the brakes. He turned to see it was his mothers car, returning home from work, and relief bloomed in his chest.

"Dean! Are you two alright?" she yelled as she clambered out of the car, snapping her cell phone shut.

"Yes, mommy. I- I don't know what happened, I was just making Sammy dinner-"

"Where's your father?!" she interrupted urgently, grabbing his shoulders. She looked to the house quickly, where through the windows, flames could be seen dancing in the back of the house- the kitchen. It wouldn't be long before they made it out into the living room and began to ascend the staircase.

Dean's eyes flicked behind her. His father's car wasn't there. He had assumed he was out at the bar, but he couldn't be sure. Sometimes his father abandoned the car at the bar and stumbled home or received a ride. All he knew was Sammy was hungry, and his mom was at work and his dad was supposed to be watching them. Dean had made dinner plenty of times, so when his father wasn't around, he wasn't surprised and hadn't gone looking. For all he knew, he could be passed out upstairs in his bed. "I don't know."

"Stay here," she said quickly, turning and running into the house.

"No!" Dean yelled, but she didn't stop.

Suddenly things were fuzzy again and he realized his skin was ice cold. Everything faded into darkness, and slowly his surroundings became familiar again. Although he was sitting in snow, he was soaked in sweat. So much for staying clean for as long as possible after his shower.

He plunged his fingers into the snow, biting his lip as the cold crept in. He then brought them up to his face, holding them there to the burning skin on his face. He closed his eyes and realized he was crying. He dried one hand the best he could on his tee shirt and shook a cigarette out of his pack, fumbling with the lighter for a minute before lighting it.

It was all his fault because he couldn't use a fucking stove.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know, i know, when will dean catch a break?! dont worry, there will be a brotherly reunion soon and sam will smack some sense into him by telling him their dumbass drunk father shouldnt have left a 4 year old alone with an infant to go to the bar, let alone expected him to cook, and that their mom shouldnt have gone in for johns ass anyway.


	56. Chapter 56

He tried to process this surge of "new" memories, but thinking about it was sending him into panic attacks, and his lower half was going numb from sitting in the snow. He managed to stumble to his feet, shaking out his jacket to remove any snow, although it was pointless. It had all melted already and was soaked through his hoodie.

He walked and smoked a cigarette, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other to keep him in the present while he tried to think back to his flashback without having another one. He and Sam had always been told his mom was going in after Sam, but _he_ had Sam. If his mom had died going in after his father, but his father was still alive, he must not have been home at the time. _She went in for nothing._ He wished more than anything that he could go back and tell his mother the house was empty. But he couldn't. What was done was done and not only had he started the fire, he'd allowed his mother to go in; he'd destroyed their family.

He knew Sam felt guilty, and now the truth would lift him of that burden.

_And the only price is he will fucking hate you._

"I'm telling Sam," he muttered. "I can't let him think he's responsible."

 _Oh, so_ now _you want to talk. Can't ignore me anymore now that you've got no one else, huh?_

He rolled his eyes and flicked his cigarette off to the right, into the snow-covered street. Up ahead, he could see headlights slowly coming towards him, the snow crunching loudly beneath the tires. He crossed his arms, kept his head down, and kept his pace steady, but he was positive they were slowing down. He didn't want to talk to anyone, so he kept his eyes trained on the ground. Then the window was rolling down and he closed his eyes until he heard a girl call his name.

"...Dean?"

He opened his eyes and snapped his head up to see Lisa leaning out the passenger side window of the car. The car came to a stop alongside him, so he stopped as well.

"Hey," he said gruffly, avoiding her eyes.

"What are you doing here?" She looked worried. "Jess said you and Cas moved to California."

He pursed his lips. "We did."

"Where is he? Why are you out here in the cold at this hour? ...What happened to the Impala?"

He blinked slowly. "You gotta slow down, Lis."

She frowned. "Do you want a ride?"

He shrugged, arms still crossed over his chest. "I'm not going anywhere in particular."

"What?" She studied him for a moment. "Get in."

"Who is that?" Dean heard a man's voice come from the drivers seat. He would have to crouch down to see who it was, but he didn't. He didn't care to know.

Lisa turned and leaned back. " _Dean_."

"Your _ex_? Why the hell are we picking up your ex?"

"Lisa, it's fine, I don't need a ride anywhere," Dean insisted. "It was good to see you."

She turned back to the window and glared at him. "Just get in the fucking car."

Well... this was going to be awkward. He stepped up to the back door and opened it, throwing his bag onto the opposite side and climbing in, wincing a bit. His ass and thighs we're prickling painfully from being soaking wet and exposed to the frigid night air. The car lurched forward before he could even shut the door. He closed his eyes and allowed the heat of the car to soak into him.

"Dean, what's going on?" Lisa asked, turning around to stare at him from between the front seats.

He frowned and opened his eyes. "Nothing." He turned to look out the window. "Just drop me off at the bus station or something if you want."

"Where are you going?" she pressed.

"I don't know."

"Okay, you need to tell me what's going on, _right. Now._ Where is Cas?"

He looked down. "California."

She frowned. "Oh... Well... where are you living then?"

He looked up to meet her gaze, but didn't answer.

"Dean... are you homeless?" she asked softly.

He shrugged and mumbled, "Yeah."

Her face contorted into this sympathetic look that Dean interpreted as pity. He felt like she was looking at him like she would an injured animal, and he hated it. "Dean... why don't you stay with us tonight? It's too cold."

Before Dean could respond, "Seriously Lisa? You're going to have your _ex_ spend the night at our house?"

She turned to the man in the driver's seat. "Chris, stop it, it's like fifteen degrees outside!" She paused. "Besides, he's into dudes now."

Dean's face fell. "Jeez, thanks Lis."

Dean could see Chris eyeing him in the rear view mirror. "Really? _You're_ into guys?"

Dean narrowed his eyes into Chris' reflection. "Both, actually," he said through gritted teeth, "but yes."

Chris just nodded and emitted a small hum of surprise, turning his gaze back to the road. Silence fell upon the car and the only sound was the tires crunching through the snow. About five minutes passed before they pulled into the driveway of an old two-family home. Chris and Lisa both opened their doors, so Dean did the same, stepping out with them and following them to the front door. Chris unlocked it and swung it open, ushering Lisa and Dean in ahead of him so he could lock up behind them.

Dean stopped short in the living room, feeling entirely out of place. The living room was welcoming, with a fluffy tan carpet, nice furniture, and a sliding glass door that led to a backyard. A lamp in the corner bathed the room in soft light. Lisa went into the kitchen, flicking on the light and calling out over his shoulder, "Are you hungry?"

"Umm..." Dean had to think about it for a second, but he had his answer when his stomach gurgled. "Yes."

"Come in the kitchen," she called out. He glanced around and noticed Chris was gone. He went into the kitchen and she was pulling hamburger meat out of the freezer. "You look like you haven't eaten a proper meal in months," she commented, cutting open the meat package and dropping it into a pan. She added a bit of water and covered the pot, turning the burner on low.

He didn't respond.

She moved closer to him. "Dean," she said softly, looking into his eyes, "tell me what's going on."

Dean swallowed down the lump in his throat. "I fucked up so bad, Lis. I started using again and hid it from Cas." He felt his eyes stinging. "Then he found out and I realized I was going to do nothing but disappoint him for the rest of his life, so I left." He paused, deciding to skip over the night with Katie. "I want to go back- I miss him so fucking much- but I can't expect him to forgive me for pulling this shit. ...And I know I'm never going to get clean. He found his brother dead from an overdose... I can't put him through that again."

Lisa gave him an empathetic look. She'd assumed, when Dean said Cas was still in California, that Cas had dumped him. She never would've imagined it was some tragic separation fueled by Dean's mental illness. "Dean, you need to go home," she said quietly. "And get some help. Cas will help you, you know that."

"That's the point!" He brought his hands up to wipe his face. "I fucking can't."

She worried her lip for a moment, knowing once Dean was convinced of something, it was damn near impossible to convince him otherwise. Looking at him was making her sad; she remembered how great and happy he'd looked when she had seen him and Cas at graduation. Now he looked more like he did when they had split up- thin and weary, eyes dulled and underlined with dark circles. "Do you want to take a shower?"

He sniffled and sighed, done crying for now, although the aftermath was clear on his face. "Tomorrow before I leave, that would be great." He wasn't sure when his next shower would be, and he knew he would be waking up sweat-soaked from nightmares tonight.

She nodded. "Stay here." She left and returned a few minutes later with clean clothes- a shirt, boxers, and pajama pants.

"Are those...?"

"Yes, they're my boyfriend's. He'll get over it. It's either that or you sleep naked, because I'm washing those clothes. Especially that _jacket_." She trailed her eyes down the front of Dean's jacket.

Lisa went to check on the meat and Dean slowly began to empty the pockets of his jacket and jeans, placing the few items on the kitchen table. His knife, a lighter, a pack of cigarettes, some crumpled up cash, and the photograph of him and Cas.

Lisa came up behind him, reaching around him and picking up the photograph. "We have a guest room," she said. "You can put your stuff in there." She paused, looking at the photo and smiling a little. "You know, I always knew there was something between you two."

Dean swallowed. "It wasn't like that when you and me were together Lis, I swear."

She laughed a little, looking up to meet his eyes. "I wasn't implying you were _doing_ anything. I know you were faithful."

_Faithful to Lisa but not to Cas, what a shame. You really know how to make it count._

"Umm..." he began, closing his eyes tightly, "can you show me where the guest room is?"

She nodded and handed him the photo. He gathered his other items off of the table and shoved them into his hoodie pockets before following her across the living room and down a hallway. The last door at the end of the hall was the guest room. She opened the door for him and stepped back so he could enter. It was small- just a bed and a bit of floor space. A small nightstand with a lamp on top was tucked next to the bed behind the open door.

She closed the door behind him and Dean dropped his bag on the floor, tossed the pajamas on the bed, and emptied his pockets onto the night stand. Giving all of his pockets one last check, he slowly stripped down, dropping all of his clothes onto the floor in a pile. While he wasn't too happy about wearing another man's boxers, it was better than dirtying up another pair of his. He knew that soon he would run out of money and wouldn't have the luxury of affording a laundromat. He slid the boxers and pajama pants on. They hung loose on his hips. He was confused, as Chris didn't look like a big guy from the few seconds he actually saw him standing in the light, but he figured he wasn't paying attention. He tugged the shirt over his head and went back into the kitchen, dirty clothes tucked under his arm.

Lisa was standing in front of the stove, pushing the meat around in the pan with a spatula. Dean cleared his throat, and she jumped slightly before turning around. "You can just leave those on the kitchen chair. I'll wash them after we eat."

Dean nodded. "I think I'm going to smoke a cigarette while you finish... unless you want me to do anything."

"No, it's okay, go ahead. Oh, here." She leaned down and opened the cabinet next to the stove, pulling out an ashtray and holding it out to him. "You can smoke in that room, just blow it out the window," she said quietly.

He hesitated before taking it from her. "...Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'll come get you when the food's ready."

He smiled a little. "Thank you."

He retreated back into the guest room, closing the door behind him and climbing onto the bed. He sat cross-legged by the pillow, placing the ashtray on the windowsill and opening the window. A blast of crisp, cold air came in, and Dean inhaled deeply. He loved the smell of fall and winter. California just didn't smell the same in the winter- it didn't get cold enough. He leaned across the bed and grabbed his cigarettes, lighter, and phone off his nightstand. Leaning back, he lit one and inhaled deeply, watching the smoke curling off the end of it and being sucked out the window.

He pressed the home button on his phone, causing the screen to light up. He fiddled with it for a minute, turning the screen on and off, contemplating calling Cas. He missed him so much, and he needed to hear his voice, talk about anything but the fact that they were apart, but talking to him wouldn't exactly help Cas move on, would it? Cas would probably look at it as a long-distance relationship until Dean finally went back. Dean wasn't going to drag him along like that.

He sighed and pressed the power button one final time, turning the screen black, and tossed his phone next to him on the bed. He focused on smoking his cigarette and planning tomorrow. He didn't want to text Sam ahead of time and give him time to contact Cas, and he didn't want to just show up at Jess' parent's house. The only logical thing to do seemed to be to meet Sam outside of the school when classes let out tomorrow.

He was pretty lost in thought when there was a knock on the door. He quickly snuffed out his cigarette, exhaling his last drag out the window and scrambling for the door. Lisa stood on the other side, smiling. "Dinner's ready."

He followed her into the kitchen, where three plates were made and Chris was sitting at one of them, already eating. Dean sat down across from him, feeling awkward as all hell that he was wearing the man's clothes, and Lisa settled between them. Dean looked down at his plate. Two homemade cheeseburgers _with toppings_ \- tomato, onion, and a bit of lettuce. "Thank you," he breathed.

She smiled, delicately picking up her own burger. "You're welcome."

Just as he took his first bite, which was orgasmic by the way, Chris finished his first burger. He wiped his mouth with a napkin and cleared his throat. "So... what's up with you?" He lifted a glass of soda to his lips, taking a gulp.

Dean swallowed down his food, raising an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Why are you homeless or whatever?"

Dean's face darkened. He didn't know this guy from a hole in the ground. "I'd really rather not talk about it," he said gruffly.

Chris leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. Lisa must have noticed something in his face, because she mumbled, "Chris..."

He turned to her, loosening one arm to gesture towards Dean. "What? We're feeding him and letting him crash here, the least we could get is a story."

"I'm not some novelty here for your entertainment," Dean grumbled. "But if you really want to know? Shitty decisions. And drugs." He paused. "They kinda go hand-in-hand."

Chris pursed his lips, but didn't respond, only leaned forward and picked up his second burger. Dean turned his attention back to his own, and they ate the remainder of the meal in silence.

It was extremely late, so they all went to their respective rooms after dinner. Dean prepared a shot first, hoping to shut down his brain before he fell asleep, to avoid nightmares. Maybe it was the dope, but crawling into the bed was heavenly. Dean was pretty sure it was just because he hadn't slept in a bed in days. He stretched out, reveling in the feeling of the clean sheets against his skin and being able to sleep with his boots and socks _off_. He wrapped his arms around the pillow, clutching it tightly and wishing it was Cas, and drifted off into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know iIve been focusing on dean for a few chapters now, but all of this has been over the course of one day (Bryan dropping him off, texting Cas, hitching a ride with Jo, buying from Crowley, texting Cas again and finally being picked up by Lisa)... What a long day! Tomorrow he will be on the move again and he will meet up with Sam, and then we are going to get back to how poor Cas is doing. Hope to hear from you all!


	57. Chapter 57

Dean slowly opened his eyes and tried to focus. He vaguely registered someone knocking on the door. He wasn't sure where he was, but then he heard Lisa's voice floating through the door. "Dean?"

"What's up?" he called, his voice hoarse. What was he doing with Lisa? Had the last year and a half been a dream?

"Can I open the door?"

Her question jump-started his brain and he realized what was going on. His eyes scanned the nightstand and floor for any evidence of the night before. There was only the needle, lying on the nightstand next to his pack of cigarettes. He swiped his hand around on the floor for the cap, re-capping the needle and shoving it into his bag. "Yeah." He threw the blanket off of himself and sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

The door opened and she stepped in, leaving it cracked open behind her. She had a towel, a bar of soap, a razor, and a new toothbrush, still in the package, in her hands. "I brought you stuff to shower. Do you want breakfast first?"

"What time is it?" he asked groggily, rubbing his eyes.

"Eleven. I just got up an hour ago and Chris is still sleeping. It's our day off."

He nodded, and he felt his stomach growl. "Yeah, breakfast sounds good. Thanks."

She turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. He opened the window and lit a cigarette, making sure to blow the smoke out of the window. Once he was finished, he snuffed it out in the ashtray and made his way out into the kitchen.

Lisa was just setting two plates of french toast down on the kitchen table. "What do you want to drink?" she asked, looking up at him.

He shrugged. "OJ?"

She nodded and grabbed the carton out of the fridge, pouring two glasses and sitting down across from him. "So," she started, sliding his glass across the table, "where are you planning on going?"

He shrugged again, squirting syrup onto his french toast. "Wherever, I guess."

She didn't reply right away, chewing her food slowly. She swallowed. "You know Cas is worried sick about you."

Dean exhaled sharply through his nose. "He was worried sick when I was there, too. At least now he'll eventually stop worrying."

"No, he won't," she said flatly.

Dean sighed. "Come on Lisa, I don't want to think about it."

She shrugged, poking at her food. "Okay."

They ate in silence for a few minutes before Dean cleared his throat. "So... when did you move out of your parent's?"

"Right after graduation."

He nodded. "...You known him long?"

She looked down at her plate. "We met a few months after you and I split up."

He stared at her for a few seconds, waiting for her to look up, but she didn't. "...Does he treat you right? He seems like kind of a dick."

She looked up and her lips were tightened into a small smile. "Most guys are kind of dicks."

He let out a little laugh. "Touché... But that doesn't answer my question." He paused. "I don't have to kick any asses, do I?"

She laughed. "No, Dean. I'll let you know if you do, though."

He smiled. "Good." He took another bite of food, studying her while he chewed and swallowed. "Thanks, by the way. For everything."

After breakfast, she sent Dean off to shower. When he returned to the guest room in a towel, his clothes were folded in a pile on the bed. He heaved a sigh and began to get dressed. He didn't deserve all of the hospitality he had been shown in the last week.

* * *

The morning sun had melted the very top layer of the snow, causing it to freeze into the snow below and create a thin covering of ice. His boots punched through the layer one after the other as he walked down the trail he and Cas had frequented so often during their friendship. He had a bit of time to kill before school let out, and he had nowhere else to go, so this was where he'd chosen. He went all the way down the dirt road, turning into the woods and taking the path he and Cas had made to the field.

When he emerged from the woodline, the view was breathtaking. He wished Cas was there with him to see it. The snow covering the field was untouched, not a single imperfection marring the blanket of white. Across the field, at the other treeline, a single deer was ripping some bark from the branch of a tree and chewing disinterestedly.

He walked over to the rocks they usually sat on and, tucking his hand into his sleeve, took a few quick swipes at the snow. Once he was satisfied that the residual amount wouldn't soak his jeans, he sat down, placing his bag on his lap and rummaging through for his gear.

It was nice having some peace and quiet for a while. While it wasn't snowing, small gusts of wind blew flakes from the trees and made it seem like it was. The sky was a calm gray, so it wasn't too bright, and Dean could lean back on the rock and just stare off wherever- enjoying the sound of nothingness except for the occasional crackle of his slightly-wet cigarette as he pulled on it. The dope had quieted the voices and noises, there were no shadows in his peripheral vision, and he was going to see his brother later. He actually felt kind of calm... or as close as he was going to get, at least.

He headed over to the school early, to compensate for his slow, inebriated walking. He was there, across the street under a tree, with fifteen minutes to spare. He smoked a cigarette and squinted towards the main doors. How much of a creeper he must have seemed like wasn't lost on him, but he needed to see Sammy.

Finally the doors opened and the student body poured out onto the front walkway. He realized he wasn't close enough to see anybody's face, but he knew he could spot Sam from a mile away. He was shocked when he did, though, because Sam had gone through a serious growth spurt- he had to be as tall as Dean now.

He watched as Sam leaned up against a tree, presumably waiting for Jess. He had to get him while he was alone. He took a deep breath, waved his arm, and bellowed, "Sammy!"

Sam had been looking at his phone, but now his head shot up, looking around wildly. He would recognize that voice anywhere. He noticed movement across the street, and squinted across to see Dean waving his arm back and forth from the tree line.

" _Dean?!_ " he yelled back. He pocketed his phone and sprinted to the sidewalk, slowing down momentarily to check for cars before bounding across the street and flying into Dean's arms. Dean gripped him tightly. He may have only been gone for six months or so, but he felt like he hadn't seem Sam in a lifetime.

When Sam pulled back and looked at Dean's face, worry clouded his own. "What are you doing here?"

"I can't come visit my little brother?" He grinned, clapping Sam on the arm. "Well, not so little anymore." He couldn't believe little Sammy was now seventeen and almost six feet tall.

"Of course, and I'm so happy to see you, Dean, really." He exhaled. "But I know something's up."

Dean sighed. He never was able to get anything past Sam. He looked around at the students making their way into the street. "Can we go somewhere and talk?"

Sam looked back to the school, then back to Dean. "Yeah, just let me text Jess and tell her I'll meet her at home." He pulled out his phone and quickly pressed some buttons before shoving it back into his pocket. "Park?"

They walked to the park in silence, since a few students were both in front of and behind them on the sidewalk. Soon they had all veered off in separate directions towards their homes, and Sam and Dean arrived at the park alone. Dean was glad to find someone had already cleared the bench of snow, so any residual flakes had melted and it was actually _dry_. They sat down and Dean lit a cigarette.

"How come you came back?" Sam asked, looking out across the park. He turned to Dean. "And where's the car?"

Dean was so tired of telling the story, but if he owed it to anyone, it was Sam. "I know what you're gonna say," he began. "...Go back." He looked down at his hands. "But everyone's said it, so please don't."

Sam raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Okay...?"

"I left Cas," he mumbled. It didn't get easier any time he said it.

"W- what? Dean- But... why?" Sam spluttered.

"I know Cas told you last time that I was using, even though I tried to hide it from you. Well... I fell off the wagon or whatever. And I can't keep doing it to Cas." He sighed. "He deserves a normal life. I obviously can't give him that since I'm a drugged up nutcase. So I left."

"But Dean-"

Dean cut him off. "And I don't know if he ever told you this, but he found his brother-"

"I know."

"Yeah... He's already had to call 911 on me twice, Sammy, one of those times because I fuckin' OD'd. I'm not going to keep doing it to him, making him re-live that, dragging him down and shit." He shook his head. "I'm not."

Sam was quiet for a moment, thinking of what to say. Finally, "So stop doing drugs."

Dean scoffed at him. "Because it's that easy, right? You wouldn't understand, Sammy. You don't know what I live with every day."

"Because you won't tell me."

Dean didn't respond right away. Sam wasn't sure if he wasn't going to, or if he was just thinking of what to say. When he seemed like he wasn't going to reply, Sam opened his mouth, but Dean spoke again.

"It's like a storm."

"...What?"

"An unexpected thunderstorm. It's the middle of the day, but it's dark and everyone is running around like ants because no one has an umbrella and they all have shit to be doing. People's stuff is flying everywhere and it's loud and dark and windy and no one can really focus on anything but getting from point A to point B without getting soaked and even that's impossible." He paused to take a breath. "The rain keeps coming down, and finally everyone realizes you can't scramble- you just have to wait for it to pass."

Sam was quiet.

"Except it doesn't pass, Sammy. It never does. There's a million things going on and it makes it impossible to even hear myself think, let alone focus on _anything_ \- and it doesn't pass until I'm fucked up. And obviously it ain't a real storm. Rain I could deal with, but it's... noises... and voices...and..." He trailed off.

After an awkward silence, Dean feeling stupid for even _trying_ to explain, Sam asked quietly, "The medication didn't help?"

Dean shrugged. "Mostly, but the side effects were horrible too. But... now I would deal with them tenfold to be even somewhat normal again."

"So go back on your medication, Dean," Sam urged.

"No," Dean said quickly. "Because it's not that easy. They put me on heavy-duty stuff. It takes a while to adjust and that shit's scary. Your mind changes and you don't understand it. And they wouldn't treat me anyway; I'm an addict. They won't treat me unless I'm clean. So getting my life together would involve rehab and a mental hospital, and that's not happening." He sighed heavily. "I'm not going in there and reliving everything I've been through with a stranger- not so I can just relapse _again_." He looked up at Sam, who was looking back at him with empathy. "Sammy, I need to tell you something."

"Anything, Dean."

Dean looked away again, down towards the ground. "I went to dad's yesterday."

"What?" Sam squinted at him. "Why?"

"To get some stuff from my room. You know dad has a girlfriend?" He chuckled sadly. Sam didn't laugh, just waited patiently for him to continue. "He told me something that I wish I didn't know, but I need _you_ to know."

Sam swallowed. "Okay."

"That night, with the fire..." Dean looked down at his cigarette, which was burnt down to the filter. He tossed it into the snow. "It was my fault."

"What... what are you talking about?"

Static was building in his ears. "It was my fucking fault," he said again, still staring at the ground. "I set the fire."

"... _What_?"

_This is the part where he punches you, tells you he never wants to see you again, tells you that you ruined their lives._

"It was an accident, Sammy, I swear," he said quickly, his voice cracking. "Dad was gone and I was just trying to use the stupid fucking stove while mom was at work. I ran out with you and she came home and asked where dad was and I said I didn't know and she went in- she fucking went in after him. If I'd been paying attention I could've told her he wasn't there, if I wasn't such an idiot I would've been able to use a stove, if-"

"Dean, whoa, stop," Sam said quickly, holding up his hand. Dean stopped and looked up at him, blinking back tears. "Dean, stop blaming yourself. There are so many things wrong with that situation that I don't even know where to begin, and none of it has to do with you."

Dean shook his head a little in confusion. "I... I don't understand." He wiped his face with the sleeve of his jacket.

Sam twisted his mouth into a sympathetic frown. "Dean, dad shouldn't have left you alone with me. I was six months old and you were four. FOUR. You shouldn't even have been alone to begin with, let alone caring for an infant." He paused. "If dad's behavior after mom died is any indication of what he was like before, she shouldn't have even left us alone with _him_ , honestly. But she probably had no choice, given she was most likely supporting us all."

Dean raised a hand to run it over his face, inhaling sharply. "I, uh... I guess you're right..."

"We were just kids, Dean," Sam said softly. "You need to stop blaming yourself for everything."

Dean looked up to meet his eyes and couldn't help but smile a little. "How did you end up so..."

"Pragmatic?" He smiled.

Dean chuckled sadly. "I don't even know what that means."

Sam smiled. "Sensible... Level headed... And it's because of you." He paused. "You know, even if dad was in the house, mom shouldn't have went in after him. What if they both died? We would've been orphans."

Dean nodded slowly. Sam leaned forward and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug. Dean hugged him back and rested his chin on Sam's shoulder. "You know what I think about some times?" he asked, his voice small.

"What?"

"You know mom and dad only even got married because she was pregnant." There was a pause and he mumbled, "Why didn't she just fucking abort me?"

Sam pulled back, gripping Dean by the shoulders and staring into his eyes. "Dean, don't ever say that again."

Dean wriggled free from his grip. "Well, it's fucking true! None of this would've happened if-"

"Dean, STOP. What did I just tell you?"

"I'm sorry," Dean said, looking down. "I can't help it."

"I know," Sam said quietly, his mind flashing back to the research he and Cas had done on one of Dean's diagnoses- borderline personality disorder. "Dean, can I ask you something?"

"Yeah."

"Did you ever, you know, research your diagnoses?"

Dean looked out towards the playground equipment. "No."

"Why not?"

Dean shrugged. "I glanced over some of the paperwork they gave me, but that's really it."

"I want you to look at something," Sam said, pulling his phone out of his pocket. "Maybe this will help you realize that sometimes, the way you feel is your mind playing tricks on you." He turned on the screen and began typing, tapping the screen for a few seconds before handing Dean the phone. "Here."

Dean took the phone and began reading.

_People with borderline personality disorder are unstable in several areas, including interpersonal relationships, behavior, mood, and self-image. Abrupt and extreme mood changes, stormy interpersonal relationships, an unstable and fluctuating self-image, unpredictable and self-destructive actions characterize the person with borderline personality disorder. These individuals generally have great difficulty with their own sense of identity. They often experience the world in extremes, viewing others as either "all good" or "all bad." A person with borderline personality may form an intense personal attachment with someone only to quickly dissolve it over a perceived slight. Fears of abandonment may lead to an excessive dependency on others. Self-mutilation or recurrent suicidal gestures may be used to get attention or manipulate others. Impulsive actions, chronic feelings of boredom or emptiness, and bouts of intense inappropriate anger are other traits of this disorder, which is more common among females._

_Many of the environmental and neurological factors that contribute to BPD also play a part in substance abuse. Many individuals who struggle with drug or alcohol addiction come from households where heavy drinking or drug use was the norm. A history of childhood sexual abuse or trauma increases the risk of substance abuse later in life, as the individual looks for ways to bury feelings of pain and anger._

_The use of drugs and alcohol aggravate some of the more dangerous symptoms of BPD, most notably, rage and depression. Those who have BPD are more likely to engage in drug or alcohol consumption as an attempt to numb the pain of their fear of abandonment._ _In order to overcome a profound sense of emotional emptiness, they frequently engage in self-injuring behaviors, like cutting. They are also prone to suicide attempts, especially when substance abuse is involved. If you or someone you care about has been diagnosed with BPD and addiction, getting professional help may literally be a life-saving intervention._

Dean huffed a sigh, passing the phone back to Sam. He didn't want to read any more. "I wouldn't kill myself for attention," he grumbled, "that's ridiculous. What's the point of attention if you're dead?"

Sam pursed his lips. "You don't have to fit the definition to a T, Dean."

"I guess." He didn't like that articles could know so much about him. It wasn't really _him_ , though, it was his illness- although he wasn't really sure where one ended and the other began.

"That's really all you focused on in the entire article?" Dean didn't respond. Sam sighed. "Look, Dean, my entire life, you've looked out for me. You've given me advice, you've done everything for me. You _raised_ me. I had some semblance of a childhood, thanks to _you_." He sighed again. "And I know you didn't. I also realize, I've never said thank you. So... thank you. But now, you have a chance to have a normal adult life. I know you feel old but you're only twenty-one, Dean. Don't let this slip away."

Dean was quiet for a moment, and Sam could tell he was holding back tears. "I can't face him," his said, his voice breaking.

Sam frowned. "Come on Dean, you know he understands you're sick. You know he'll forgive you."

"It's... it's not that." He looked up at Sam. "I did something else." Sam was quiet, and Dean looked away again. "I slept with some chick. The _day_ I left."

Sam let out a long exhale. "Damn, Dean..."

"Yeah," Dean said curtly.

Sam looked around the park, searching for something to say. Finally, "I don't know what to tell you, Dean. But you read the article. Unstable behavior, impulsive actions, unpredictable." He shrugged. "But you can't keep doing it. If you go back to Cas, you need to make an effort to manage your illness."

Dean pursed his lips. "Yeah." He didn't look up, but he could feel Sam staring at him.

"So..."

"What am I supposed to say, Sam? 'Sorry I abandoned you without a word, after _everything_ you've done for me, slept with someone else, and blew all of my money on drugs, but I'm back now, so no big deal'?"

Sam pursed his lips. "No. I never said it was going to be easy. But it's the right thing to do."

"Yeah, well, maybe eventually, if he hasn't smartened up by then and he still wants me back." He paused. "But I deserve some shit first after all I've done. Penance, or something."

"You have it backwards, Dean. You deserve good things after all the shit you've been through."

Dean didn't respond. A minute passed before Sam let out a long exhale. "So what are you going to do then? Just be homeless?"

"I guess."

Sam looked away, scoffing lightly. "You're unbelievable."

"You know me," Dean muttered, pulling another cigarette from his pack and lighting it. "The king of bad decisions."


	58. Chapter 58

Could his professor be any _less_ interesting? Cas was finding it extremely difficult to pay attention in class. He wasn't sure why he'd even gone, honestly, and half-way through class, his books were in his bag and his feet were carrying him out the door, phone in hand and texting Craig. As he waited in the Impala for a response, he scrolled through he and Dean's most recent texts, feeling his heart sinking into his stomach. He couldn't believe five days had passed since he'd seen him. Since the day they'd met, they'd never been apart for that long. Luckily Craig responded quickly, and he tossed his phone onto the passenger seat and threw the car in drive to head over.

He hated going to Craig's house, but Craig wouldn't deliver without charging extra, and Cas wasn't really eager to tell a drug dealer where he lived, anyway. It was fifteen minutes to the other side of town. Craig actually lived in the same apartment complex they'd gotten Cujo from, although Craig was on the first floor. Running a hand through his hair, he sighed and knocked on the door.

Craig opened it quickly, ushering him inside and closing the door. Cas was always surprised to see how clean and normal the place was. He'd seen it with Crowley, but he always assumed it was because he was different than other dealers. Or that maybe being British had something to do with it.

They handled the transaction and Craig ushered him out the door just as fast as he'd pulled him in. Within five minutes, Cas was back in the Impala, heading home with an eight ball of coke burning a hole in his pocket.

On his way home, his text message notification went off. He waited until he was in the driveway to check it. It was Rich.

_'hey, how are you doing?'_

He smiled a little. Even though Dean was gone, he was glad he had friends who cared. Dean was the only one he'd had in Kansas.

He texted back _'Okay I guess. are you free?'_ and exited the car, grabbing his bag and heading inside. Cujo danced around his feet, wagging his tail.

"Hey, Cujo! Did you miss me?" He walked straight to the back door, opening it and watching Cujo fly out into the grass and zoom back and forth around the yard.

His phone went off again. _'yeah, im off today. when do you get out of class again?'_

He was surprised Rich actually remembered what days he had school, with how much other stuff Rich had going on. _'I didnt go. Come over.'_

_'give me half an hour'_

Cas played with Cujo for a few minutes until he finally went to the bathroom. He then trotted back to the door, dropping his wet toy on the patio, and stepped over the threshold. Cas reached behind the door and grabbed a towel from where it was hanging on the wall, kneeling down to wipe Cujo's muddy feet. Cujo stood perfectly still, offering his paws to Cas. "You're such a good boy," Cas murmured when he finished, grabbing either side of his face and planting a large kiss on his muzzle. Cujo broke free from his grip and in return, showered his face with kisses. He then ran off to his toy bin, grabbing a stuffed animal and shaking it violently.

Cas walked over and sat down on the couch, breaking out the bag and pouring a little onto the table.

Just as he was starting to feel it, Cujo dropped his toy at Cas' feet and barked. "Come here!" Cas said excitedly, patting the couch. Cujo jumped up and Cas pushed him a little. Cujo gently bit onto his arm, wagging his tail, and Cas tried to pull away. "Ow," he breathed, laughing a little. He pushed Cujo again and Cujo jumped on top of him, nibbling at his face. They wrestled for a minute before Cujo stopped and stiffened, looking towards the front door. Then there was a knock, and he started barking.

"It's probably Uncle Rich!" Cas said happily, scrambling off the couch to get the door. He was correct, and Rich was standing on the doorstep in a hoodie, hood up and arms crossed over his chest. His eyes swept over Cas, taking in the messy hair, blown pupils, and disheveled clothes.

"You okay?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Cas said quickly, "I was wrestling with the dog." He stepped back so Rich could enter.

"Well, you seem to be smiling, so that's a good thing," Rich said, walking towards the couch and sitting down. He flipped his hood down and Cujo followed him and crawled onto his lap, soliciting pats.

Cas frowned a little as he appeared behind the couch and was reminded of why he _shouldn't_ be smiling. But he pushed it out of his mind quickly. The coke was making him happy, and damn it if he wasn't going to enjoy it while it lasted. He sat down next to Rich and turned on the TV.

Rich pulled a bag of weed out of his pocket. "Smoke?"

Cas hesitated, but declined. "I'm good for now."

Rich quirked an eyebrow. " _You_ don't want to smoke."

Cas offered a weak smile and shrugged.

"I know why," Rich said, setting his bag down on the table. "'Cause it'll bring you down." He sighed. "I think you're getting carried away, Cas."

Cas flapped his wrist dismissively. "It's fine."

Rich smiled a little. "Okay then." He leaned forward and snatched Cas' bag off the table. "Go three days without this and I'll believe you."

Cas frowned. It had been half an hour, and his high was already fading. "Yeah. Sure."

Rich tied the bag in a knot and shoved it into his pocket, turning to Cas and matching his frown. "I'm worried about you, Cas."

Cas smiled weakly. "Don't be. I-"

"You're strong," Rich interrupted. "I know. I just... I can tell you're sad, Cas. When I look at you. And I don't want you to be." He had to cut himself off before he went on a tangent about how much he loved seeing Cas smile. "Have you left the house for anything but school since Dean left?"

"No," Cas mumbled, looking down at his lap.

Rich crossed his arms and leaned back into the couch, eyeing Cas up. "We are going to smoke and then we're going to go do something fun."

"Like what?" Cas asked, reaching below the coffee table to the second, lower level and grabbing his bowl. He set it down on the opposite side of the table, near Rich.

Rich started breaking up a nug to pack into it, shrugging. "I don't know. What's something you've always wanted to do? Maybe something your parents wouldn't let you do." He held the bowl out to Cas.

Cas took a large hit, holding it in and passing the bowl back to Rich. "I don't know," he said, exhaling and filling the space between them with smoke. "I've kind of always wanted a piercing, but my dad wasn't a fan."

Rich's eyes lit up. "See, that's what I'm talking about. Let's do it. What kind of piercing?"

Cas thought about it for a brief moment. "A lip piercing."

Rich grinned. "Let's go then!"

* * *

Cas jiggled his knee a bit, staring off at the various art on the walls. They were sitting in the lobby of a tattoo and piercing studio, and Rich was flipping through a tattoo magazine. Cas had already filled out his paperwork, and all that was left to do was wait.

"Nervous?" Rich asked, glancing up from the magazine.

"A bit," Cas responded, scraping his thumb nail across his jeans.

Suddenly the buzzing that had been filling the air dulled as one of the artists and the client they were working on decided to take a break, and they were able to make out the music playing through the speakers.

_I think of you every night and day_   
_You took my heart then you took my pride away_

_I hate myself for loving you_   
_Can't break free from the things that you do_   
_I wanna walk but I run back to you_   
_That's why I hate myself for loving you_

_I hate myself_

_For loving you_

Cas crossed his arms, slumping back into the seat.

Rich frowned, but wasn't sure what to say. Cheer up? Try not to think about it? Neither of those things would be particularly helpful, so he said nothing.

A woman in her forties emerged from the back, approaching them and stopping next to Rich. She had jet black hair, cut short, and both ears were lined with rings. Her left eyebrow sported two piercings, and she had a gem in each nostril. "Castiel?"

Cas nodded.

She smiled. "Ready when you are."

He stood up and followed her to the back, where she already had a tray set on the counter of her station. A dental bib covered the tray, and various packages were lined up on top of that. "You can have a seat."

He sat down in the chair and she walked to a nearby sink. She washed and dried her hands, then returned and put on a pair of gloves. "I'm going to open everything in front of you so you can see that it's sterile," she said, tearing open the first package. As she opened them, she strategically placed the items in different spots on the tray.

When she was done, she handed him a cup of liquid and asked him to rinse with it and spit it back into the cup. He did as instructed and handed it back to her, and she set it on the counter and explained the process. "I mark it, you tell me if you like the spot. I clamp it, we pierce it, I follow through with the jewelry and you're all done. The piercing itself only takes a few seconds, and the pain is pretty minimal."

He nodded. She asked which side he wanted it on, and he picked the left. She poked the spot with a toothpick covered in purple liquid and held up a mirror. A small purple dot showed him exactly where the jewelry would sit. He handed her the mirror. "Good."

She measured his lip with a pair of calipers, then removed her gloves and got his jewelry. She ripped open the package, dropping the jewelry onto the tray without touching it, and donned a new pair of gloves. She turned to him and smiled. "Ready when you are."

He let out a long exhale, gripping the arm rests on the seat. "Okay."

She picked up a pair of clamps and reached forward to take Cas' bottom lip between her fingers. She placed the clamps around his lip, moving them around a bit until she was confident that they were lined up properly. She then tightened them, and Cas would be lying if he said it didn't hurt a bit. She held them with one hand, reaching over with the other one to pick up the needle from the tray. "Ready?"

Cas nodded ever so slightly, as she had his lip in the clamp and he didn't want to mess it up. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rich hold his hand out. While he wasn't really scared, just unsure of how much pain to anticipate, he flipped his hand over and let Rich take his anyway.

She lined up the needle. "One, two, th-" She pushed it through. "-ree."

Cas winced slightly, but she had been right. It wasn't bad at all; in fact, the clamp hurt worse than the piercing itself. Almost instantly, the clamps were off and she was bringing her hands back to his face with jewelry, lining it up with the end of the needle and pushing it the rest of the way through. There was lubricant on the needle, so he didn't really feel it sliding through as much as he thought he would.

"Just gotta put the ball on, and we're all done," she said distractedly, dropping the needle into a sharps container and grabbing the little ball off the tray. Cas had wanted a ring, but she had said a labret post was much better for healing, and that once he was fully healed, he could switch it out. As she fiddled with the ball, he felt Rich's hand leave his own.

She wiped the dripping blood from his lip and gave him another cup to rinse with. He looked over at Rich, smiling a little. "How does it look?"

"Really good," Rich said quietly.

He turned back to the piercer. "Feel okay?" she asked.

"Great."

She smiled and held up the mirror again.

"I like it," he grinned.

She continued smiling. "Awesome. If you're ready to get up, you can go check out with the receptionist. I'm going to clean up back here, and then I will meet you up front to go over aftercare. So don't go anywhere, okay?"

"Okay. Thank you," he said, standing up. They went back to the front and Cas paid the receptionist. As she disappeared with the money, Rich noticed Cas just clutching his wallet, looking a little pale.

"Cas... you okay?"

Cas turned to him and blinked slowly. Rich sounded far away. "Um... kinda lightheaded," he mumbled. He reached up a shaky hand to wipe some sweat off his forehead, pulling back and squinting at the glint of sweat on his hand.

"Sit down," Rich said quickly, grabbing his arm and leading him to the couch in the lobby. Cas flopped back into the couch and Rich ran back to the back to find the piercer. She was spraying down her station with some kind of chemical.

"Um, he's like, super pale," Rich said. "And sweating."

Her head snapped up. "Okay, be right there." She pulled her gloves off and tossed them into the garbage, bending down to get something from the cabinet below her station.

She was behind Rich in an instant, just in time to see Cas' head fall back and his arms twitch slightly. "What's happening?" Rich asked worriedly.

She knelt down in front of Cas. "He just passed out," she explained calmly, inspecting Cas' face, which was drained of all color. "It's actually quite common. Sometimes it happens right away, other times it's not until they stand up, or have been standing for a minute or two, although that's rarer. It's caused by the blood sugar spiking and dropping after the adrenaline rush of getting a piercing. He should come 'round in a minute or so."

Rich moved around her to sit next to Cas, facing him and placing his hand on his. He gave a few gentle shakes. " _Cas_."

"I'll be right back," the piercer said. She disappeared into the back again.

Just as she was returning with a cup of water, Rich felt Cas twitch beneath his hand. "Cas?"

"Castiel?" the piercer said loudly. "Do you know where you are?" Cas opened his eyes a little, blinking slowly. His eyes were on her, but they weren't really focused. "You just got a piercing, and you passed out for a minute there." She smiled warmly.

Cas slowly lifted his head, and Rich pulled his hand away. "Oh," Cas said softly, looking around. "Right."

"Here." She held out something that looked like a giant Smartie. "It's a glucose tablet. Sugar. It'll make you feel better. Chew half at a time."

He took it from her and broke half off, chewing slowly and swallowing. She handed him the water and he took a sip, closing his eyes as he swallowed.

"Well, the color's coming back to your face," she said. "Just sit tight for a little bit, okay?"

He nodded and she went into the back again to finish disinfecting her station.

Rich just watched him, worried, until the tablet was gone and Cas had finished his water. "Do you feel better?" he asked.

"Yes," Cas said hoarsely, turning to look at him. "Thank you."

Rich just nodded, smiling weakly. After a few minutes, the piercer returned and went over the aftercare with Cas, stressing that if he had any questions, to give her a call. She told him to call in six or seven weeks to make an appointment to change out his jewelry if it was healing well. Cas tipped her, thanked her, apologized for passing out, and they left.

They climbed into Rich's truck and drove back to Cas', stopping at the store to get the things Cas needed for aftercare. At home, Cas immediately started on dinner. He was starving. He split a box of mac and cheese with Rich, and they watched TV and smoked bowls until Rich had to leave to check on his dad.

"How is he doing?" Cas asked softly.

Rich sighed. "Not good, honestly... The doctors are pretty much just making him comfortable at this point." He fiddled with the cigarette in his hands, looking down at it.

"I'm sorry, Rich. If there's anything at all I can do, please let me know."

Rich looked up at him and smiled, his eyes crinkling slightly at the edges. "Thank you, Cas." He stood up. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Cas nodded, standing as well and following him to the door. "Goodnight."

"'Night, Cas." He stepped out and Cas closed and locked the door behind him. Cas made his way back to the couch, sinking into it and suddenly feeling _bored_. He stood up again and went into the bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror. The bar was a little long, which the piercer had explained was to accommodate for swelling, but he loved it. He wanted _more_ change, though. He wasn't sure why. Maybe it was because he felt boring- he wore the same clothes most days and his appearance never really changed. He reached up and ran a hand through his hair, deciding that he wanted to dye it. He put his shoes on and walked down to the store, grabbing a box of dye that included a bleaching kit.

When he returned home, he immediately mixed the bleach solution and, using the gloves from the kit, saturated every strand of hair on his head. His hair was very dark, so he waited fifty minutes before rinsing it out. Unfortunately, he hadn't thought it through, and realized after the fact that he needed his hair to be dry to apply the dye. He didn't own a hair dryer, so the blue would have to wait until morning; he was going to have to be a blonde for the night.

He fed Cujo dinner, let him out, and went into the bedroom to get undressed and lie in bed. Cujo followed him and curled up at the foot of the bed. He took his phone out and opened a blank text to Dean. His thumbs hovered over the screen for a minute before he sighed and exited out of the form. He opened his camera roll and scrolled through the photos, stopping at a few of them together.

Tears began stinging at his eyes and he brought his hand up to wipe them away. "Why won't you just come back, you stubborn asshole," he muttered to himself, tossing the phone onto his nightstand. He rolled over and buried his face into Dean's pillow, deeply inhaling his scent and allowing himself to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs Used:
> 
> [Joan Jett - I Hate Myself for Loving You (1988)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bpNw7jYkbVc)


	59. Chapter 59

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if anyone is confused about the timeline, im sorry! it's still the day Dean and Sam met up. as usual, thank you so much for your wonderful comments <3 they keep me going!
> 
> lots of hurt/comfort in this chapter :P

After parting ways with Sam, Dean realized it was quickly getting colder and he had nowhere to sleep. He probably should've thought about that the night before. What would he have done if Lisa hadn't picked him up? He decided it would probably be a good idea to head farther south if he was going to be sleeping outside. He stopped at a liquor store and grabbed a bottle of whiskey, filling his flask and shoving the bottle into his bag. He then walked to the on-ramp of I-35 and walked along the highway on the shoulder, on the outer edge of the guardrail. He knew it wasn't the smartest idea, but how else was he supposed to find a ride going in the correct direction?

He walked for about four miles with his thumb out, keeping his head down. The first person who stopped was going to Wichita. Not exactly south enough to make much of a difference, so he declined, although he was sure to express his appreciation for the offer. Just as it was starting to get dark and windy and he was wishing he hadn't refused the ride, a green Jeep slammed on the breaks and veered onto the shoulder in front of him. The vehicle lurched to a stop, dust rising around the tires and hazards flashing, but no one emerged.

He approached the drivers side hesitantly. The tinted window rolled down and he couldn't hide the shock on his face when Crowley was staring back at him.

"What the fuck are you doing on the highway?" he hissed.

"Um... trying to get a ride farther South." Dean paused. "What are you doing? I didn't even know you had a car."

"I don't. Get in." He faced forward again and rolled the window back up.

Dean hurried around to the passenger side, yanking the door open and climbing in. The interior of the car was spotless (and warm), and it still smelled new. As soon as he closed the door, Crowley hit the gas, merging back onto the roadway and picking up speed.

"Didn't exactly _think_ about how cold the nights would be in Kansas, did you squirrel? You do realize it's _January_?" Crowley muttered, glancing over at him.

"No," Dean admitted. "I didn't really think any of this through."

Crowley looked away and rolled his eyes. "I'm going to Corpus Christi. I'll drop you off somewhere along the way."

"As long as it's somewhere warm," Dean mumbled, crossing his arms and letting the heat from the vents wash over him.

"Texas is plenty warm."

"What are you driving all the way down there for? ...And where'd you get this car?"

"That all depends."

Dean turned to him. "Huh?"

"On whether or not you can keep your mouth shut," Crowley said flatly, shooting him a look.

"Oh... Of course." Dean looked down and uncrossed his arms. He pulled his flask out from his inside jacket pocket.

"I'm picking up," Crowley said simply. "Car's a rental."

"Down by the border? No wonder your shit's so good," Dean mused, tilting his head back and taking a lengthy swallow from his flask.

"Yep. And it's a long drive. So take a beauty nap or something," he muttered.

* * *

Cas awoke early after a night of restless sleep. He fed Cujo and watched him eat, sleepily pulling on a cigarette. He briefly thought that he should make himself breakfast, but he didn't have much of an appetite. After Cujo did his business in the back yard, Cas went to take a shower and was startled when he first walked past the mirror, forgetting the changes he'd made yesterday. He shook up the blue dye and applied it, leaving it on for longer than necessary before rinsing it out and taking a shower.

It was a dark, electric blue, and he _really_ liked it. Dying it was the most attention he'd paid to it in a while, and it made him realize he needed a haircut. It was getting a bit shaggy, the sides covering the tips of his ears and his bangs slowly making their way towards his eyebrows. He thought maybe he would grow it out a bit more instead of cutting it. He got dressed in jeans, a tee shirt, and a hoodie and walked slowly to school, chain-smoking until he arrived at campus. He tried to focus in class, but as his professor droned on, his eyelids were getting heavy and he was having trouble keeping them open.

Soon there was a hand on his shoulder and he was being shaken awake. "Class is over, Cas."

He sucked in a sharp inhale of breath and quickly lifted his head, blinking into the fluorescent lighting until his eyes focused on Haley. "Oh... thanks."

"You okay?" Haley asked, frowning a little, her hand still gripping Cas' shoulder. "It's not like you to fall asleep in class, and Gemma told me you walked out of class yesterday."

Cas looked at the board and sighed. "I'm okay. Thank you, though."

She nodded, giving him a sympathetic look. "Let me know if you ever need anything."

"Yeah," he said distractedly, gathering his books and shoving them into his bag. "Thank you."

She stared at him for a moment, as if she wanted to say something else- maybe about the sudden change in his appearance. Instead, she dropped her hand from his shoulder, turned around, and walked out. He stood up and followed her out the door, thankful he only had one class today. He just wanted to go home.

If he was being honest with himself, he would admit that the only reason he didn't want to talk about it was because it made it easier to pretend it wasn't happening. His school acquaintances were asking questions, and he didn't want to explain. Instead, he told himself he just didn't feel like socializing. He just wanted some alone time. That was normal, right? He'd spent so much time alone when he was younger that he honestly wasn't sure.

He went back home and made an attempt to play with Cujo, but Cujo could tell he just wasn't into it. Eventually he gave up and curled up next to Cas on the couch, resting his head in his lap. Cas flicked through the TV channels, trying to find something on that would hold his interest. He passed National Geographic, which was showing a Drugs, Inc. episode about cocaine. He stopped momentarily before switching the channel again and finally settling on Spongebob.

"Daytime television sucks," he mumbled, looking down at Cujo, who didn't even open his eyes. He rolled a joint and smoked as he watched TV.

He awoke two hours later, confused. He didn't remember falling asleep. Letting his head fall back against the couch and staring up at the ceiling, he wasn't sure when he'd become so _exhausted_. He was sleeping every night, yet he was still tired. He wasn't really eating, but he didn't see that as particularly problemsome.

He sighed and lifted his head, reaching forward and grabbing his pack of cigarettes from the table. He lit one and took a long, slow pull, closing his eyes and focusing on the feeling of the smoke filling his lungs. On the exhale, he re-opened his eyes and picked up his phone, turning on the screen. Rich had texted him while he was asleep.

_'hey, my aunts coming to spend some time with my dad tonight and tomorrow. do you want to hang out?'_

He didn't even have to think about it. _'Yes.'_ He sent one more as an afterthought. _'Bring liquor.'_ He really wasn't a fan of drinking; he hated getting sick and he hated being hungover. For this reason, he _usually_ kept his drinking to a beer or two, but tonight he wanted to forget about shit, even if it was just for a little while. He wanted to feel loose and have fun. Rich had taken his fucking coke, so what other choice did he have?

Rich arrived within half an hour. When Cas opened the door, he held up a bottle of flavored vodka, grinning.

Cas tilted his head. "Vodka? D-" He hesitated. "...Dean and I usually drank whiskey," he finished quietly.

"You've never drank vodka?" Rich said incredulously, raising and eyebrow and slipping past Cas into the living room.

Cas closed the door and followed him to the couch. "I've had a shot here or there... but I've never just sat down and drank vodka." He walked over to the kitchen, opening one of the cabinets and pulling out two shot glasses. He walked back to the couch and set them down on the coffee table in front of Rich.

Rich cracked the bottle open. "So... what's going on?" He glanced up at Cas briefly before looking back down at the glasses he was filling. "I know you're not a drinker. I probably shouldn't be encouraging you, but fuck, I don't exactly want to think about my life right now either." He chuckled sadly, shaking his head slightly.

Cas took a seat next to him and shrugged. Before he could think of something to say, Rich continued. "Are you sleeping?"

Cas frowned. "Yes. Actually, more than usual."

Rich studied his face. Cas tried to read his expression, but he was unable. "Are you eating?"

Cas shrugged again. "Why?"

Rich chewed his lip, thinking about what he wanted to say. "You look like shit," he settled on, picking up his shot glass. "But I love the hair," he added quickly, pointing to Cas' head with the hand he held his drink with. "Compliments your eyes. Toast?"

Cas laughed a little. "Thanks." He picked up his shot glass. "What are we toasting to?"

Rich frowned and shrugged. "Major life changes?" He offered an uneasy smile. Cas had lost his boyfriend, and he was going to lose his father, and probably soon. Brit, his best friend, was off strung out somewhere. Maybe they could help each other out through all of this.

"Okay," Cas said, a small smile spreading across his lips. "To major life changes."

* * *

Three hours later, and they had both crossed well into inebriated territory. Rich had a higher tolerance, so while he had a pretty good buzz going, Cas was definitely wasted. Rich was lying on his back on the floor, Cujo standing over him, rubbing and smooshing his face while baby-talking him. Cas was sunken into the cushions of the couch, zoning out in the direction of the television.

"Rich, can- can I ask you something?" Cas said suddenly, turning from the TV.

"'Course," came the reply from the floor.

Cas leaned forward and reached for the bottle. They'd given up on pouring shots. "Do y- d'you think I'm b... boring?" he slurred.

Rich pushed himself up onto his elbows, and Cujo moved away to go look for a toy. Rich furrowed his brows at Cas. "Not at all. Why?"

Cas felt a little stupid bringing it up, but it had been nagging at him for days. "I jus'... Don't feel like I'm int'resting." He took a swig from the bottle, scrunching his face slightly at the burn in his throat.

Rich frowned. Cujo came over and stood next to him, a toy in his mouth, but Rich didn't seem to notice. "Tha's ridiculous, Cas. I think you're very interesting."

Cas leaned on his knees, gripping the bottle in his right hand and dangling it between his legs. He raised an eyebrow. "How so?" He wasn't one to fish for compliments, but he'd never been filled with so much self-doubt before.

Rich studied him for a moment. "Well, if you really want to know why I was immediately interested in you..." Rich trailed off, feeling his face heating up. He told himself it was just the alcohol, but he knew he was blushing. In the six months he'd known Cas, his "crush" had only grown, although out of respect for both Cas and Dean, he'd acted like it didn't exist. Now Dean was gone, and Cas was miserable, and he didn't want Cas to be miserable.

"First, you always look so fuckin' pensive," he began. "I wonder sometimes what the hell's going on in that head."

Cas smirked. "Nothin' interestin', I assure you." He took another drink from the bottle.

Rich pushed himself up and crawled over to the couch, climbing onto it and sitting facing Cas. "See, tha's where you're wrong," he grinned, gently taking the bottle from Cas and setting it on the coffee table. "But second, you're intelligent. Knowledgeable. About like, everything," he said, his eyes widening. "The other day you knew the fucking name of the... the bacteria that makes it smell like rain after a storm."

Cas' lips twisted into a lop-sided grin. "Actin... actinomycetes."

"Yes, that!" Rich exclaimed.

"But that's jus'... random information," Cas tried to protest.

"So what? The fact you wonder enough about the world to find out and retain that infor... information is admirable."

Cas felt himself blushing. "Thank you... but I'm 'fraid not ev'ryone feels that way." He paused. "I... I feel like Dean left because he grew tired of me," he admitted, feeling his eyes beginning to sting.

"That's crazy," Rich said quickly. "Don't think that for a second, Cas." He swallowed. "Besides, no one should do what he did to you, even if they did think you were _boring_." He said the last word with distaste. "But you're not, Cas."

Cas looked away, towards the table, his eyes falling on his pack of cigarettes. He reached forward and took one out, lighting it and taking a drag. He stared at the floor for a moment, worrying his lip. "W... what if he left me for a girl?" he said quietly. He didn't look at Rich, feeling more vulnerable than he had in a long time.

"Cas, come on. Even if he did, it's not your fault you're a guy." He scoffed. "I didn't even know he liked girls. Not sure what's so great about them, anyway."

Cas smiled weakly, wiping his face and turning back to Rich. "I agree. But... before we were together, Dean was with ex- exclusively women," he mumbled.

Rich looked into his eyes for a moment, worrying his lip. "Cas..." He sighed. "Look..." He looked into his lap at his fidgeting fingers. "I don't wanna overstep any boundaries here, but..." He looked back up. "I'm here, okay? Whatever you need. Anything." He was hoping that would make Cas feel better, but it seemed to make him feel worse.

"Fuck, Rich," Cas sobbed, lowering his head into his hands and suddenly letting the floodgates open. "I shouldn't be sayin' this to you. Your dad is fucking dying, and you're ov'r here comforting me through a shitty breakup." He lifted his head and took a ragged breath, bring his arm up to wipe his face with his sleeve. "I don't want anyone feelin' sorry for me."

"I don't f-" Rich started, but stopped himself, lowering his head and closing his eyes for a second. Then he started again, his voice lower. "I don't feel _sorry_ for you. Look, Cas, you're right. My dad is going to die." He paused and looked up. "But I've known that for a long time. I've had a long time to prepare for this." He blinked and a few tears started to roll down his cheeks, but he wiped them away quickly. "Don't worry about me, alright? Worry about you." Hesitating a bit, he reached out and placed his hand on Cas'.

"Well, I mean, we're friends," Cas said slowly, turning watery eyes to look at Rich. "Shouldn't we worry about each other?"

Rich smiled and chuckled a bit. "Yes. You're right." Cas looked down at his cigarette and Rich found himself staring at his profile. He brought his hand up to Cas' shoulder, and when Cas turned to him, he pulled him in for a hug. Cas slowly brought his arms up to return the hug, leaning into him.

"It'll be okay, Cas." He sighed. "Even if he doesn't come back. It'll be okay," Rich assured him.

When he pulled back, he realized Cas was swaying. His face was red and blotchy, and his eyes were still welled up with tears. "Do you want to call it a night?" he offered.

Cas grabbed the bottle from the table and took one last swig. He set it back down and nodded, still not looking at Rich.

Rich stood up and grabbed Cas' arm. "Alright, come on." Cas stumbled up and Rich helped him to his bedroom.

Cas flopped back onto the bed, groaning and throwing one arm over his eyes. "Everythin's spinnin'," he groaned.

"Put your foot on the ground," Rich suggested, standing next to the bed and swaying slightly himself. "It'll help."

When Cas didn't move, Rich reached forward and gently took his knee, pushing his right leg away from the left until it fell over the side of the bed. "Better?"

"Kinda," Cas mumbled.

"Do you need anything?"

"No."

"Okay, I'm gonna go lay on the couch," he said, backing away towards the door.

Cas removed his arm from over his eyes, lifting his head and squinting at Rich. "You don' have to," he said quietly, so quietly Rich almost didn't hear it.

"What?"

"The couch," he clarified, flopping his head back against the pillow again. "You don' have to."

"I... I don't think I should," Rich mumbled.

"It's a king, it's fine," Cas insisted, closing his eyes and rolling over towards the edge to show Rich how much space- Dean's space- was unoccupied. "Look. Look at all the wasted room," he murmured, swiping his arm back and forth across the other side of the mattress.

"Uhh... okay. I'll be right back." He staggered out of the room and made his way to the front door, locking it and shutting off the front light. He glanced around quickly, trying to figure out if there was anything else he should do, and trying not to freak out that he was about to sleep in Cas' bed. These days, Cujo didn't need to be enclosed in his kennel at night, as he had proven himself successfully potty trained. Rich let him out to use the bathroom, then locked the back door and turned that light off too. He hit the rest of the lights in the house and stood in the dark. _I should really just sleep on the couch,_ he thought, wringing his hands nervously. _Cas is going to wake up tomorrow and freak out on me._

He heard Cas' voice from the bedroom, low and strained. "Are you comin' back?"

He sighed and entered the bedroom. "I'm here. Had to shut down your house."

"Shut down the house?" Cas repeated, giggling a bit into the pillow. "The hell does that mean?"

"Like, for the night?" Rich tried to explain, failing. "Forget it." He walked around to the opposite side of the bed, hesitantly climbing on and shifting so he was sitting up. He lit a cigarette, taking a drag and holding it out to Cas. "Want some?"

Cas nodded, rolling over and taking it from Rich. He was clearly close to passing out, so Rich didn't want to give him his own. Cas took a few pulls before handing it back to him and attempting to climb under the blanket. No matter which way he moved though, a part of his body was still resting on it, making him unable to lift it. Finally Rich reached out and yanked it towards him, out from underneath Cas, so he could settle into the sheets. He was surprised when Cas popped open his button and yanked down his jeans, kicking them off and to the floor. He then pulled his shirt off and tossed it on top of his jeans, settling down into the pillow on his side, his back to Rich.

Rich dropped the blanket down so it covered Cas and turned around to snuff his cigarette out in the ashtray. He hadn't planned on getting under the blanket, but he was kind of cold. He rolled off the bed and lifted the covers, climbing underneath fully clothed and curling up on his side, facing away from Cas and keeping a respectable distance between them. He felt the bed move as Cas reached forward to turn off his bedside lamp.

He sighed, shifting a bit and settling into the mattress. It was definitely more comfortable than his own bed. He found himself wishing this could be every night. Then he thought about why it wasn't, because of Dean, who wasn't even there anymore. He thought about how, in his opinion, Dean didn't appreciate Cas. Cas didn't deserve this. No one did. He wasn't sure why Dean would give up someone so great.

He then realized that just because Dean was gone, it didn't mean he had a chance. Cas might not even feel the same way about him. While it wouldn't effect their friendship, Rich obviously wanted more, when Cas was ready. He felt selfish for thinking about it. He heard Cas begin to lightly snore and he shifted again, trying to get comfortable and ignore the million thoughts running through his drunken mind.


	60. Chapter 60

"Good morning, Crowley. Good to see you."

"Likewise."

"Who's your little friend?" Edgar asked, nodding towards the Jeep.

Crowley glanced towards the car, where Dean was slumped over in the front seat. "Customer," he replied curtly.

Edgar looked out towards the water. "You know to come alone, Crowley," he said, his voice low.

Crowley shrugged. "Kid's higher than a kite. No idea what's going on." He paused, slightly amused, but regained a serious tone when Edgar gave him an unimpressed, mildly annoyed look. "I know him. He can keep his mouth shut."

Edgar crossed his arms. "You know better than to take chances. And I certainly know better than to take chances with people who take chances."

Crowley nodded. "Understood."

They proceeded with the exchange, and Edgar got back into his car. Before he pulled off, he rolled down the window and narrowed his eyes at Crowley. "Alone next time."

Crowley frowned. "Right," he muttered, but Edgar was already driving away.

.

"You arrive back on Earth yet?"

"Huh?" Dean mumbled, turning to blink at Crowley.

"You've been over there drooling on yourself for the past forty-five minutes."

Dean looked down and sure enough, there was a small wet spot on the front of his hoodie. "Gross," he muttered. "Sorry." He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and pulled a cigarette out of his pack, rolling down the window and lighting it. "Where are we?"

"San Antonio."

Dean observed one of the signs they passed. "North?" He looked at Crowley worriedly. "Why are we going north?"

"I already picked up. It was quite early, and you were asleep." He shrugged. "Figure'd I would drop you off here on my way home." He merged onto an off ramp.

"Oh... okay." He took a drag off his cigarette and looked back out the window. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." He paused. "Literally."

* * *

The first thing Cas was made aware of upon waking was the pounding beneath his skull. The second was something draped across his side. For a brief moment, he assumed it was Cujo's paw, until he realized it was too heavy and thick to be his leg. For an even briefer moment he thought it was Dean's arm. He opened his mouth to call out his name.

He stopped himself after the first syllable, remembering why it wouldn't be Dean. Of course it wouldn't be Dean. He slowly turned his head, wincing at the throbbing in his brain, and _holy shit it was Rich._ He wasn't cuddling or anything; in fact, there was a good few inches between them, but at some point he must've rolled over and flopped his arm over Cas' waist.

Cas nearly fell out of bed, cursing under his breath at the new surge of pain that flooded his skull. He brought a hand up to run it through his hair. Why the hell was Rich in his bed? He pushed himself off the edge of the mattress and padded into the living room, where Cujo was passed out on the couch. He let him out to do his business, then let him back in and went into the bathroom.

In the shower, he tried to think back to the night before. All he could remember was getting way too drunk and turning into a crying mess. He sighed, leaning his head against the cold tile and letting the hot water run over him. If he believed in a god, he would've prayed that he hadn't done anything with Rich. All he could think about was what he would say to Dean when- no, _if_ \- he came back. _"Yeah, it hasn't even been a week, but I fucked Rich. Welcome back!"_

He finished rinsing off, a little depressed at the realization that he was now thinking of Dean's return in terms of _if_ and not _when_. When he exited the bathroom in a towel, Rich was sitting at the kitchen island, nursing a cup of coffee and smoking a cigarette. He looked up at Cas. "Mornin'," he said nonchalantly.

"G- good morning," Cas responded, looking away. "Let me get dressed and I'll be right out." Rich nodded and Cas disappeared into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. He quickly got dressed and lit a cigarette, walking back out into the kitchen.

Rich was cracking eggs into a frying pan. He looked up to see Cas dragging himself to one of the kitchen chairs, bleary-eyed, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

"Figured I'd make breakfast," he said.

Cas nodded, taking a seat at the island. "Thanks."

Rich cooked in silence. When he was finished, he set a plate and a cup of coffee in front of Cas and reclaimed his seat next to him. He took a bite of his food as Cas stared down at his own. "Aren't you hungry?" he asked.

Cas brought his arms up to rest his elbows on the table and lowered his head into his hands. "Not really."

Rich was quiet for a moment, watching the smoke rise off the tip of Cas' cigarette. Then he cleared his throat. "Um... we didn't... do anything. If that's what you're thinking."

Cas lifted his head and sighed, facing up towards the ceiling with closed eyes, and Rich could tell it was in relief. He wasn't sure exactly how to feel about that, but he tried to tell himself it wasn't personal, although he had no way of truly knowing what Cas was thinking.

"I drank too much," Cas said finally, turning to Rich. "I'm sorry."

Rich shrugged. "Happens. Now eat. I'll bet you've got a nice hangover."

Cas looked back down at his food. He snuffed his cigarette out in an ashtray across the island and picked up his fork, poking at the food. "I'm sorry I dumped all of my shit on you," he said quietly.

Rich smiled. "What're friends for, right?"

Cas looked up and smiled weakly. "You're right. Please let me know when I can do something for you."

Rich continued to smile. "I'm sure you'll already be doing it without me even asking, Cas."

Cas gave him a real smile this time, although it was small. He then turned back to his plate and began to eat slowly.

"So, uh... I don't know if you want to stick around today," Cas said eventually, "but I wouldn't mind."

Rich chuckled softly. "Yeah, sure. Any idea what you want to do?"

Mostly he just didn't want to be alone, but he did have to run an errand. "Maybe just hang out here. But I do need to go to PetCo and get more dog food, and one of those things..." He trailed off, looking away and squinting. "What the hell are they called?" He turned back to Rich. "The metal thing you use to clean dog poop. I don't know the word in English."

Rich quirked an eyebrow. "In English? What are you talking about?"

Cas gave him a blank stare before realizing why Rich must have been confused. "Oh," he said, a smile spreading across his face. "I'm French."

Rich smiled. "Really." Cas nodded. "I think the word you're looking for is pooper-scooper."

Cas' brows furrowed. "Really?" He scoffed. "The English language is so _lazy_." He shook his head in mock-disappointment. "Anyway, it's been quite painful bending to clean the yard, so I thought it would be a wise investment."

Rich just stared at him for a moment with an amused smile before asking, "Why don't you have an accent?"

"My parents and all my siblings were French. I'm the youngest and I was basically raised here. Moved here when I was seven. I learned English from my parents and brothers before I started school, and we've never had a dog, so the vocabulary was never discussed."

"So..." Rich took a gulp of his coffee. "You speak French?"

"Yes."

Rich set his mug down and settled into his seat, raising an eyebrow at Cas. "Say something in French."

"Quelque chose en Français."

"What did you say?"

"Something in French."

Rich laughed. "No, seriously."

Cas' mouth spread into a smile. "I literally said _something in French_."

Rich broke into a grin. "Oh." He looked down at his mug, then back up at Cas. "So... PetCo?"

Cas leashed up Cujo and they locked up the house. In the driveway, Cas hesitated. "We can take the Impala."

Rich stopped and turned to him. "If you want, yeah."

As they settled into the front seat, Cas ran his fingers along the top of the steering wheel and sighed. "I have no idea why he left her behind," he said quietly, almost to himself. He figured it was probably because he paid the insurance, and Dean would feel bad driving her around while Cas paid for it.

Rich frowned at him. "Cas, I have no idea why he left _you_ behind. Fuck the car."

Cas didn't respond. He only turned the key in the ignition, and Bruce Springsteen started playing through the radio.

_Got a wife and kids in Baltimore, Jack_   
_I went out for a ride, and I never went back_   
_Like a river that don't know where it's flowing_   
_I took a wrong turn and I just kept going_

_Everybody's got a hungry heart_   
_Everybody's got-_

Cas' arm lurched forward to press one of the pre-set buttons, changing the station.

_Sink your teeth right through my bones, baby_   
_Let's see what we can do_   
_Come on and make it hurt_

_Hurt so good_   
_Come on baby, make it hurt so good_   
_Sometimes love don't feel like it should_   
_You make it hurt so good_

Cas sighed, turning to look out the drivers side window in defeat.

"Let me," Rich said quickly. He reached out to adjust the knob and flipped past a couple of stations before settling on a newer pop song.

_She took my arm_   
_I don't know how it happened_   
_We took the floor and she said  
_ _"Oh, don't you dare look back  
_ _Just keep your eyes on me"  
_ _I said "You're holding back"  
_ _She said "Shut up and dance with me"_

Cas lit a cigarette and rolled down his and the rear drivers side windows. Cujo shoved his head out and Cas put the car in reverse, backing out into the road.

.

"Do you mind pushing the cart so I can work with Cujo?"

"Not at all," Rich said, taking the cart as Cas moved to the side. "Where are we going?"

"Towards the food."

After Cas grabbed food and a scooper, they walked around for a little while. Cas grabbed a few extra things that caught his eye, including some new toys and a different brush. As they were heading to the register, they were approached by a young female employee. "Do you guys need help finding anything?"

When Cas stopped to speak with her, he gave Cujo a hand signal and he sat at his side. Cas glanced at the cart, then back to the employee. "I think we're okay, thank you."

She looked down at Cujo, who met her eyes and wagged his tail. "Well, aren't you just adorable," she said with a smile. She looked up at Cas. "I saw you guys walking around the store. He's so well behaved. Did you train him yourself?"

Cas nodded.

"Wow. How old is he?"

"Eight months."

"Can I say hello?"

"Sure. Cujo," Cas looked down at him, "Say hello."

Cujo surged forward and pushed his side into her legs, looking up at her with a lolling tongue and wagging tail. She reached down and rubbed his ears, neck, and shoulders. "Oh, what a good boy," she cooed. "So polite." She looked up at Cas and Rich. "How long have you guys had him?"

Before Cas could respond, Rich opened his mouth. "Uh... we- we're not... he's his dog," he finally finished, his face flushing as he gestured towards Cas.

Cas chuckled awkwardly, and she immediately looked embarrassed. "I'm so sorry," she said quickly, straightening up. In the absence of pats, Cujo began sniffing her pants.

"It's okay," Cas said, smiling warmly. "But we should be checking out now."

"Right," she said hurriedly. "Have a good day." She ducked her chin and disappeared into one of the aisles.

"Jesus- fuck that was awkward," Rich breathed, letting out a nervous laugh and gripping the handle to the cart tightly.

Cas murmured something in agreement and started walking towards the registers. Rich lowered his head and trailed behind him. When he knew nothing would ever happen because Cas was with Dean, he'd slowly stopped being nervous around Cas. Now that there was a chance things could change, he felt himself losing his cool again, and it was quite embarrassing.

* * *

When Crowley dropped him off, Dean immediately started walking and looking for other addicts. He needed to establish connections and find dealers before he ran out of what he'd gotten from Crowley. He was relieved at how warm it was, nearly sixty degrees despite it not even being noon. He ended up removing his jacket, shoving it into his bag, and unzipping his hoodie as one o'clock came around.

He'd only found one other person who looked like a user, but they'd called him a narc and told him to fuck off. He was getting antsy, so he found an alleyway that seemed to be deserted and well-hidden. There was a dumpster against one wall, but he didn't think it was likely anyone would be bringing out garbage in the middle of the day. He sat down behind the dumpster, where it met the wall, hoping he wouldn't be seen. It was bad enough being a slave to the shit, but he really hated others seeing just how weak he was.

As he began to come down, he couldn't resist the urge to text Cas anymore. He hadn't heard from him since they spoke while he was at the laundromat the night Lisa picked him up. Dean was pretty sure that was already two days ago now.

_He's forgotten already. Don't text him. Leave the poor guy alone._

"No," Dean mumbled. "He's upset."

Laughter. _He's really not... but keep telling yourself that._

He briefly had the awful thought that Cas may have hurt himself.

 _Over_ you? _Please. Not everyone's as fucking needy and pathetic as you are._

He rummaged around his bag for his phone, opening up a text to Cas. He checked the date; it _had_ been two days since they'd spoken. Dean was worried. He'd expected more contact from Cas. He hoped it meant Cas had moved on, but he knew nothing was ever that simple. He did his best to type out a text message.

_'cas... are yu ok'_

Rich had just stepped into the bathroom when Cas heard his phone go off. He was surprised to see it was from Dean.

_'As okay as I can be... What about you?'_

_'it was cold so i got a ride furthr south. warm now.'_

_'Im worried about you, dean.'_

_'i kno cas. im ok tho you know im like a cockroach'_

Rich emerged from the bathroom. "You hungry?" he asked as he entered the living room.

Cas shook his head, ashing his cigarette into the ashtray. "You can make yourself whatever you want, though."

Rich nodded and went into the kitchen to look around for something to eat.

_'I dont get it... What do cockroaches have to do with your well-being?'_

_'they can survive anything. even the apoclypse'_

_"i didnt know that."_

Dean typed out another text. _'i miss yu so fukkin much cas'_ He hovered his thumb over the send button before losing his nerve and erasing it. He knew he shouldn't be saying it. He couldn't drag Cas along. He hung his head and wanted to cry, but he couldn't. Maybe he was too doped up. Either way, he had no idea what else to say. A few minutes went by until his phone went off again.

_'Dean?'_

_'yea?'_

_'I want you to know that whenever you decide youre ready, you are welcome back.'_

_'thank you c as'_

Just as Dean's last text came through, Rich came back into the living room with a sandwich. Cas typed out another text and hit send before setting his phone down on the coffee table and rolling a joint for them to smoke. He was pretty proud of how he'd handled it. He didn't flip out on Dean, pressure him, or make him feel bad, which was more than he could say about the last few time they'd spoken. He knew now that Dean was alive. He was somewhere warm. He considered the brief conversation a success, and hopefully one step closer to getting Dean to realize he needed to come home.

And tomorrow was day three. His point would be proven to Rich and he could have his bag back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> songs used:
> 
> [Bruce Springsteen - Hungry Heart (1980)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lQSn26zCXYQ)   
>  [John Melloncamp - Hurts So Good (1982)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4dOsbsuhYGQ)   
>  [Walk the Moon - Shut Up and Dance (2014)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6JCLY0Rlx6Q)


	61. Chapter 61

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're going to start skipping ahead a bit. BECAUSE DEAN NEEDS TO GO HOME DAMMIT but we all know that wont happen until he's nearly dead because he's DEAN *exasperated sigh* so we're gonna get into the dark stuff in the next few chapters... -chuck help me-
> 
> content warning: homophobic language

Days stretched into another week. Dean had severely underestimated the things he would have to consider while homeless. The first night in San Antonio, he'd slept behind a bush in a park. It wasn't comfortable, or even safe, but he was just thankful it was warm enough to sleep at all. Most nights it hovered around forty degrees. His jacket wasn't exactly warm, but with his hoodie underneath he was pretty comfortable. It certainly beat the fifteen degrees it often dropped to in Lawrence. His body ached in the morning, but he was sure that had more to do with withdrawal than the temperature.

Over the first few days, he'd managed to find some other users. Some were homeless and some were not, but none offered him a place to stay. He hadn't expected they would, though, anyway. When he ate, he ate off the dollar menu. He shaved and used the bathroom in any store he happened upon that wasn't too busy at the time.

Rich had begun to let himself in whenever Cas invited him over. With Brit out of the loop and Dean gone, they'd become even closer. On this particular day, Rich let himself in and was immediately bombarded by loud music. Over the last few days, both he and Cas had discovered that coked-up Cas _really_ loved the oldies.

_Heaven knows, it's not the way it should be_   
_And heaven knows, it's not the way it could be_   
_And don't you know, there's no need to leave_   
_Heaven knows, I never wanna leave you_   
_Heaven knows, I only wanna please you_   
_Don't you know, love is what I need_

Rich didn't see Cas, so he walked towards the couch. Cujo ran up to him and he gave him a few pats before straightening up to look for Cas. He could barely hear a _sht-sht-sht_ -ing noise over the music, coming from the kitchen. He peered around the counter and Cas was on his hands and knees, scrubbing the floor with a scrub brush. He was wearing a fitted black tee-shirt and jeans he'd cut into shorts.

"Um... what are you doing?" Rich asked, staring at Cas' moving arm to try to avoid staring at his ass.

Cas' head snapped up and a grin broke out across his face. "Hey! This floor is filthy. It needed cleaning."

"Okay... Are we still going to the movies?"

"Is it five already?" Cas asked, looking down at what he'd been doing on the floor with a look of disbelief. "Yes... Let me get changed."

Rich nodded. As Cas rose from the floor and walked off into the bedroom, Rich went over to the radio and turned it off. Cas re-emerged quickly, dressed in black straight-legged jeans, a black zip-up hoodie, and red Converse. Rich looked him up and down, admiring the striking contrast of the bright red of his sneakers and bright blue of his hair against the black. "Do you own a hairbrush?" he teased with a smirk.

Cas tilted his head. "No, why?"

Rich snickered. "With your hair getting longer, I think you're gonna need one soon."

Cas shrugged, lifting his hand to run it through his hair. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

"I think you're half way across," Rich commented. "Come on." He nodded towards the door.

.

They settled into two seats in the back corner of the theater, which was mostly empty as the movie had been out for a while. Rich began munching on the popcorn as Cas turned off his phone. They talked about the previews, and soon the movie was starting.

Cas had already been feeling a bit down. His last high had worn off a while ago, and the comedown wasn't fun. Then a couple two rows in front of them began making out, and he couldn't help but feel a little bitter. Then he realized he was being ridiculous, and it shouldn't bother him, and that made him feel worse.

He stood up and looked down at Rich. "Bathroom."

Rich nodded and moved his legs to the side so Cas could squeeze past him. He hurried out the doors and down the corridor to the nearest men's room. There was one other man in there, washing his hands at the sink, so Cas went into a stall. He pulled his bag and straw out of his pocket, dropping the bag onto the top of the toilet paper dispenser and reaching into his back pocket for his wallet. He took out his license and stuck the corner into the bag, tapping it a bit to let the excess drop back in, until half of the bottom edge of the ID was coated with a line of powder. He paused, and he could hear the sound of rustling paper towels, and then retreating footsteps. He quickly ran the straw along the edge of the ID, tilting his head back afterwards for good measure and placing a palm to his forehead to press and rub.

He flicked the card to knock the remaining powder back into the bag, running his tongue across the bottom to get whatever didn't fall off. He wiped it on his pants and returned it to his wallet, shoving that into his pocket and re-pocketing his bag and straw.

When he returned, Rich held the popcorn out to him.

He held up his hand. "No, no... thanks though."

Rich shrugged and leaned over. "You didn't miss anything interesting," he whispered. He leaned back and popped another handful of popcorn into his mouth.

Cas nodded, staring ahead at the screen. He could still feel Rich's breath on his ear, and maybe it was because of the coke, but it had him missing intimacy. Between that and the two teenagers still making out in front of him, he started feeling a bit jealous. Dean hadn't messaged him in a week. He'd been gone for two weeks now, and Cas was starting to feel that maybe he really wasn't coming back. The last message Cas had sent after their conversation a week ago, _'I love you'_ , had gone unanswered. Thinking of all this while high had him coming to a different conclusion, one that made him feel mature and like he had everything under control, even if that wasn't exactly the truth. _If Dean doesn't want to be with me, there's nothing I can do. It's fine. People break up all the time. I should be glad he left instead of staying with someone he didn't love in an attempt to spare my feelings._

"Are you okay?"

Cas turned to Rich. "What?"

"You're doing that pensive thing. Are you paying attention to the movie?" Cas just stared at him blankly for a second, and Rich smiled nervously. "What?"

Cas leaned over. "Who does that at a kids movie?" he whispered slowly into Rich's ear.

Rich swallowed, pulling back and turning his head to look at Cas. Cas nodded his head towards the couple kissing, a small grin slowly spreading across his face.

Rich's eyes flicked to them and back to Cas. The light from the screen was illuminating his face, and Rich could see his large black pupils, encircled by a small ring of blue. "You know how it is..." he mumbled. "When the mood strikes." He shrugged and let out a nervous chuckle. Just before he could turn back to the screen, Cas surged his head forward and pressed their lips together.

Rich stiffened but before he could react any further Cas was pulling back, looking away. " _Merdemerdemerde!_ Fuck, sorry, I- I shouldn't have done that!" He stood up. "I don't know what-"

Rich collected himself and reached out to grab his arm. "Cas, sit back down. Finish the movie."

A parent a few rows in front of them and to the right turned around. "Would you two shut up?" he hissed.

"Hey, fuck you," Cas snapped back.

" _Cas!_ What the hell? This is a kids movie," Rich said in a hushed whisper. He offered the guy an apologetic look. "Sorry," he said quietly. The man glared at him, but turned back around. Rich turned back to Cas. "Cas, would you just sit down?"

Cas swallowed, looking away for a second before deciding to resume his place in his seat.

A few minutes went by before Rich got tired of hearing his fingernails scraping along the armrest. He placed his hand over Cas', giving his fingers a squeeze. "Calm down, dude," he whispered.

Cas nodded, staring at the screen and trying to focus on the movie, but saying it was difficult would be an understatement. What the fuck was wrong with him? He wasn't even sure he felt that way about Rich. At least, he hadn't until a few minutes ago when he suddenly had the insane urge to kiss him. Was he just horny? That wasn't exactly fair to Rich, who had liked him since they met. He probably wanted a relationship, and that was off the table for Cas. Not only did he not want to commit again, but he had to be honest with himself... And that included admitting that if Dean came back today, tomorrow, six months, or even five years from now, he would go running back. He would _always_ go running back.

* * *

Dean looked down at his hands. All he had left, sixty crumpled dollars, wasn't going to last him another day. He looked up, across the street, to the grocery store. As much as he felt he was far too dirty to enter, he was starving, and the fast food from the dollar menu wasn't cutting it. It kept the hunger pains at bay, but it didn't do much for actual nutrition or energy. He also couldn't keep any to save for later, and he was limited by the times the buildings were open, as drive-thrus refused to serve pedestrians.

He crossed the street and went in, keeping his head down. The first thing he saw was the produce section. Good for the body, but wouldn't keep very well. He moved on to the next section, which was all boxed and canned goods. He had nowhere to cook, so he kept walking. He passed the frozen section, the dairy section, everything, until he was about to give up. Then his eyes fell upon the assortment of canned nuts. They were expensive, but they were supposed to be good for you, right? They wouldn't spoil. He grabbed a bag of plain almonds and made his way up to the register. He went to the express lane, becoming painfully aware of the stares he was receiving and wanting to make an exit as soon as possible.

As the cashier, a young jock-ish guy who couldn't have been more than seventeen, rang him up, he stared him down. "Your total is seven twenty-four," he said in his Southern drawl.

Dean handed him a tattered ten, and the cashier handed him his change back, being careful not to brush his fingers against Dean's. Dean was already feeling uncomfortable, being scrutinized under his gaze, and when the cashier handed him his can, he refused to make eye contact.

"You ever heard of a shower, buddy?"

Dean's head snapped up and he opened his mouth, but nothing came out. The embarrassment that had been simmering in his chest began boiling over. He looked to his left, where the woman on line behind him was flipping through a magazine from the rack and hadn't seemed to hear the comment. Dean turned back to the cashier and narrowed his eyes. "You ever heard of minding your own fucking business?"

The cashier narrowed his eyes in return, but the fact he was on the clock must have prevented him from speaking any further.

"Asshole," Dean muttered. He could feel the kid's eyes glaring at the back of his head as he walked out.

The kid was right though. He hadn't been able to shower since he spent the night at Lisa's. It was exactly why he hadn't wanted to go into the grocery store, but hunger had won out. He learned his lesson, though. No more grocery stores.

He needed to make more money. He'd been hustling pool for the last few days, so he found a random bar on the edge of town he hadn't hit yet, and by the end of the night, he'd made another hundred. It was less than he usually made, but it was better than nothing. It seemed everyone could tell he was a junkie, and because of that they thought he would be easy to beat, so hustling pool was easy. He was up at the bar buying a drink to celebrate when he was approached by an older man.

"Hey," he said gruffly, sliding into the seat next to Dean.

Dean looked up. He was a big, burly guy, wearing a straining flannel, blue jeans, and work boots. He was sporting a thick beard and a worn trucker hat. Quite the Texas stereotype, Dean thought. "Hey." He looked back down at his drink.

"Looks like you need some money."

Dean turned back to him and raised an eyebrow. "I just made some, in case you hadn't noticed."

"Oh, I noticed," he chuckled. "You hustled my friends pretty good." He paused. "Do you need more?"

"Depends," Dean said, looking back into his drink.

"On what?"

"The fuck you want," he said, turning to him.

"Christ, boy, you're thick," he said, laughing deeply and shaking his head. Dean felt his stomach sinking as the man leaned forward. "I'll tell you what I want," he said, his voice low, and Dean could smell the beer coming off his breath. "That pretty mouth wrapped around my cock."

Dean jerked backwards, nearly falling off his seat. He reached a hand out to grip the bar and steady himself.

"Dude, fuck off!" Dean growled, allowing himself to slide off the seat. He picked up his drink, throwing it back and slamming the glass back onto the bar. The man was just staring at him with an amused and somewhat predatory look on his face. Dean slung his bag over his shoulder and turned, shooting him a dirty look over his shoulder before hurrying out of the bar.

It was getting late, and he hadn't really thought yet about where he was going to sleep that night, but that was pretty far from his mind as he made his way around to the back of the building, looking around to make sure he wasn't seen.

He was quite enjoying his high when he heard a door open, and realized that there was an exit on the opposite side of the dumpster. For some reason, a group of men were using it to leave the bar. Through his haze, he heard voices and the flicks of lighters, and then he smelled cigarettes. He tilted his head back against the bricks and closed his eyes, hoping they wouldn't see him. He was well aware of how vulnerable he was when he was high.

A few minutes went by, and he was starting to come back around. The voices started to dissipate (the real ones, anyway) and he assumed they'd all left. He smoked a cigarette and stumbled to his feet, but when he came out from behind the dumpster, there was still one person leaning against the building and smoking.

"Hey," he said as Dean rounded the corner of the dumpster.

Dean didn't respond.

"I said _hey._ "

Dean stopped in his tracks. "What do you want?" he grumbled.

"That ass."

Dean's eyes widened, but he regained his composure quickly and narrowed his eyes. "Jesus, are all of you in Texas gay, or what?"

Rage flashed across the man's face and he surged forward, pushing Dean up against the dumpster with an arm across his chest. He reeked like beer. "Hey, fuck you," he spat, staring into Dean's eyes. "I ain't no fag. A warm hole's a warm hole."

Dean swallowed, keeping his eyes locked with the other man's. "Uh... yeah. Sure, whatever, man. ...You're not gay."

"You're one to talk, anyway," he said, releasing Dean and taking a step back. "I can tell you're a fuckin' queer," he said with a sneer.

Dean didn't say anything. He was still riding the tail end of his high, so his reflexes were delayed at best, and this guy seemed unstable and maybe even dangerous. He didn't want to piss him off. He stood still for a moment as the man walked back over to the wall he'd been leaning on. When Dean moved, he didn't, so Dean hurried past him and back around to the front of the building, where he began walking in search of a place to sleep.

He ended up settling on an empty park bench that was drenched in shadow and barely visible from the street. As he positioned his bag to use as a pillow, he wondered what Cas was doing. He'd wanted to call him so many times over the last week, but his phone had died right after they'd last talked. He knew it wasn't fair to Cas anyway, to keep talking to him so soon after leaving, and soon Cas would probably stop paying for his phone, so why bother trying to find a place to charge it? He lit a cigarette and pushed the thought out of his mind. Instead, his mind went back to what had just happened at the bar. How could people tell he was gay? Should he be concerned for his safety? This was Texas, after all. But... they'd seemed more interested in other things besides bodily harm, so maybe he didn't really have to worry as much as he thought. Maybe only other guys who were interested could tell.

Either way, it had made him pretty uncomfortable. He was going to have to find a different way to make money. Over the past few days it was getting harder to actually win playing pool, anyway. He was too strung out. He dropped his cigarette, bending his leg at the knee to snuff it out with his boot before turning onto his side to try to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs Used:  
> [Donna Summer - Heaven Knows (1978)](https://youtu.be/xTaydm8wGR0?t=45s)  
> translation: merde (shit)


	62. Chapter 62

After the movie, they drove to a remote part of the beach and laid in the bed of Rich's pickup truck, smoking joints and looking at the stars, the waves crashing loudly a few hundred yards behind them.

"You know, they are much brighter without all the light pollution," Cas said, thinking back to lying in the Kansas fields with Dean. There, they had been so unbelievably bright, and Cas remembered teaching Dean the names of the constellations they could see, like Ursa Major. Here, the city lights reflected off the fog and while the sky was a brilliant purple and dark blue, there weren't many stars visible at all.

Rich nodded. "Yeah, they're always better at my cousin's out in Sunol."

"Tom, right?"

Rich nodded again.

They were quiet for a moment until Cas cleared his throat. "I, um... guess we should talk about the movie."

Rich let out a small sigh. He'd been trying not to think about it. "If you want."

Cas was quiet again, and Rich thought he was going to suffocate from the tension in the air. But he kept his eyes on the sky, taking slow pulls off the joint, patiently waiting for Cas to speak.

"I, uh..." Cas sighed and sat up to look at Rich. "I'm sorry. I'm not sure what I was thinking. I... I know you like me, but... I have to be honest, I have no idea how I feel." He looked away, not wanting to see the hurt that would inevitably flood Rich's face. He pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. "Dean was really my only serious relationship, so... I think you can understand why I'm not ready for another one."

Rich hesitated for a split second, staring at the back of Cas' head, before, "I totally understand. Don't worry about it." He was pretty proud of how steady he'd kept his voice.

Cas turned to him with a frown. "I feel like a real asshole for initiating something and then backing out. Please forgive me."

Rich smiled a little. "Cas, it's fine. Really." He held the joint out. "Here."

Cas took the joint from him, bringing it to his lips and taking a long, steady pull. He held it in for a moment before tilting his head back and blowing it towards the sky. He looked back down at the joint. "You're a really good friend, Rich," he said quietly, rolling it between his fingers. "Thank you for that."

Rich smiled weakly at the back of his head. "You are too, Cas."

* * *

Dean was woken up early the next morning by a blunt object jabbing at his lower back. He jerked awake, craning his neck to see some guy in a uniform, poking him with his nightstick. Dean couldn't tell if he was a cop or not, but whoever he was, he didn't look happy.

"Get a move on, son. Can't sleep here."

Dean groaned, pushing himself up and turning over.

"You're lucky I don't write you a ticket for vagrancy, boy," he grumbled.

"Sorry," Dean muttered, standing up and picking up his bag.

"You gonna be sorry if I catch you sleepin' in this park again. Now git."

Dean turned and walked off, rolling his eyes. Why did he have to end up in Texas? He crossed the street, feeling the man still watching him. Now that he was awake, using was top priority. He would just have to keep moving and find somewhere secluded. He smoked a cigarette and walked for about ten minutes before ducking into an alleyway. There wasn't really anything to block the view from the street, but if he walked down far enough, the few people that were out at that hour probably wouldn't be able to see what he was doing anyway.

He settled down against the side of the brick building and pulled his bag out of his pocket, fiddling with it between his fingers. There wasn't much left, maybe enough to keep withdrawals at bay until he could get more. He scolded himself for not paying more attention the night before when he'd shot up behind the bar. He needed to plan better. Poor planning was what had gotten him into this situation in the first place. He never should've left, he never should've done this to Cas, he never should've thought he could make it on his own...

He huffed a sigh, removing his jacket and opening the bag. He couldn't think about that shit now. Right now he needed to focus on getting high and finding his next fix.

It was unsatisfying. It numbed the emptiness inside for a few brief minutes, but did nothing in terms of calming his mind. Shadows still danced in the corners of his vision, whispers still ghosted across his ears. The only benefit was that he bought himself a few more hours before withdrawal hit again. He wanted to flop over onto his side, close his eyes for a bit, but he didn't like sleeping in the daylight where he could be seen. It was too easy for anyone to just run up and rob him, and he needed to get moving on scoring more dope very soon anyway.

So instead he lit a cigarette, stared at the brick wall across from him, playing with the wolf pendant around his neck idly between his fingers. He almost didn't notice someone walking down the alley until they were right on top of him. His hand scrambled for the needle lying next to him on the pavement.

"No need to hide it," she said calmly. "Looks like I had the same idea as you." She unclenched her fist and held up her hand, dangling a small baggie of powder.

Dean squinted up at her. "Why are you up so early?" He honestly wasn't sure why he asked that.

She smiled. "Time means nothing to an addict. And it's already seven." She sat down next to him and pulled out a spoon and lighter. "Rig?"

He stared at her blankly. "What?"

She rolled her eyes. "Needle. Mine's dull as shit."

"Um..." He looked down at the needle in his hands. "I used it already."

She snorted a laugh. "Does it look like I give a shit?"

He glanced to her and raised an eyebrow. "You realize needles are like two dollars, right?"

She frowned at him. "That's two dollars less dope."

He returned her frown. "Right." He paused, looking down at his hands and rolling the barrel of the needle between his fingers, scraping his thumbnail along the printed lines. "Let me ask you something."

She sighed impatiently. "What?"

He looked up at her. "You homeless?"

"Sorta. I'm crashing on a friends couch right now. But I've lived on these streets before." She paused. "Why?"

"How do you do it?"

She let out a loud, short laugh. "Ain't easy to explain." He didn't respond, so she continued. "Tell you what, let me use that rig and I'll give you some pointers."

"How about you give me some pointers and hook me up with a good dealer, and I'll buy you a whole box of needles."

She studied him for a moment before looking down and shrugging. "Deal. My boyfriend just went to jail, so I could use some company, anyway."

He watched her begin to prepare the shot. "I'd share," she said, holding the lighter under the spoon, "but this is all I've got." He nodded and handed the needle over.

Once it was empty, she withdrew the needle and held it out to him.

"Uh... you can keep it."

"Too good to share needles?" she asked, letting her head fall back against the brick and smiling at him weakly.

"I guess," he responded gruffly. He didn't think he was too good for anything, but that didn't mean he wanted to do it if he could help it.

"You got a cigarette?"

He gave her one and they sat in silence for a while, until she suddenly re-animated and sloppily clapped her hands together. "Alright, let's go." She stumbled to her feet, pressing her hand to the wall for balance and throwing the cigarette filter to the ground.

Dean stood up as well. "Where are we going?"

"To get those needles, then to meet my guy."

Dean followed her back out into the street and down a few different ones until she finally stopped. He looked up over the doorway of the building, and there was a large Rx sign hanging above their heads.

"Well, go on."

He hesitated, remembering the day before at the grocery store. He turned to her. "I'll give you the money. You go in."

She rolled her eyes but held out her hand, and he reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled five, placing it in her palm. "Get two." She nodded and disappeared through the doors, and he leaned back against the building and lit a cigarette. When she came back out, she immediately handed him a box before shoving her own into the purse she had draped over her shoulder.

"Alright, come on. They don't do much good empty, right?" She started walking and Dean jumped to catch up with her.

"So, uh, where do you get your money, anyway?"

She shrugged, keeping her eyes forward and tucking a strand of dark brown hair behind her ear. "However I can."

He looked her up and down, something he hadn't done before. Her face was caked in makeup, thick black eye shadow and eyeliner surrounded her eyes, and her lips were covered in a coat of bright red lipstick. A small black leather jacket covered a smaller red crop top, and her lower half was barely covered by a plaid mini-skirt. He cleared his throat. "Are you a, um... a hooker?"

She stopped walking and turned to glare at him, placing a hand on her hip. "And what if I was?"

He opened his mouth but was unsure what to say. He ended up shrugging. "I was just asking," he mumbled. She began walking again without a response, and he trailed behind her. They were quiet for a few minutes, and he felt bad. "I'm sorry if I offended you," he said finally.

"Why would I be offended?" she said quickly. "I hardly do anything and guys throw their hard earned dollars at me. It's great." She turned to him. "Got another cigarette?" He nodded and retrieved his pack from his chest pocket, pulling out a cigarette and handing it to her. She lit it and took a large drag, closing her eyes for a brief second. When she reopened them and exhaled, she turned her head to glance at him. "So what's your name, anyway?"

"Dean."

She nodded, still walking. "Meg."

She took him to a run-down house on the corner of what probably used to be a nice suburb. The paint was peeling and the yard was overgrown in the patches where grass still grew. She made him wait outside as she went in, and then she poked her head out of the front door and waved him in. Inside, he bought enough to last him twenty-four hours and wrote down the guys number. He said he preferred a call first, but he understood if his customers didn't have phones; just keep the visits to once per day.

They left and walked to a nearby park, crossing through the playground to the woods, where they went a couple of feet in and settled down at the base of some trees. Meg had Dean keep an eye out for people as she prepared two shots.

"Okay, done." He looked down and sure enough both needles in her lap were already filled with liquid. She handed him one and reached down to yank off her shoe.

"What are you doing?"

"Gotta switch up the sites," she mumbled, pressing the tip of her needle up into the top of her foot. "My veins are basically shit by now." She paused, feeling him staring at her. "You'll get there eventually. Word to the wise, start switching it up now."

Dean looked down at the needle in his hands, rolling it slightly and watching the amber liquid roll around in the barrel. For a brief moment, he felt fear as he pictured his future, but then she was withdrawing the needle and sighing, and he couldn't push down the anticipation of having that liquid coursing through his own veins anymore.

As they came down, Dean gave her another cigarette. "So," he said, turning to her. "My first question is where the fuck do I shower?"

She laughed, rolling her head on the bark of the tree she was leaning against. "You don't, really. Every heard of a sponge bath in a sink?" She paused, trailing her eyes down his body. "But that's something you gotta keep up on. Looks like you haven't seen water in the better part of a week. I bet you want a hot shower, huh?"

He nodded. "That would be really nice."

She thought for a moment. "You could try a hostel. Or a motel."

"I don't really have money for that."

"Hence why most take a whore's bath in a public bathroom," she smirked.

He sighed, looking off into the woods. "I have no idea how to make money. Even before... all this... I couldn't hold a job. I just stole money off my dad."

She shrugged. "You could steal."

"No," he said quickly. "I'm not a thief. My dad fucking deserved it."

"Okay..." she said slowly. "What are your... marketable skills?"

He turned to her, raising an eyebrow. "My what?"

"What are you good at?"

He scoffed. "Not much."

"Everybody's good at something," she insisted, tilting her head back against the tree again. "Take me for instance. I'm good at sucking dick," she said nonchalantly, chuckling lightly.

He grimaced a bit. "Uh... my ex... he said I was pretty good at playing guitar."

She smiled. "Well there's a guitar for sale at this pawn shop in town. I've passed it in the window tons of times. You could play, or whatever. People will give you money."

"Really?" he asked hopefully.

She nodded. "Let's go see if they still have it."

They walked for about fifteen minutes until they arrived at the pawn shop. Sure enough, a black, lightly used acoustic guitar sat in the window. It was fifty dollars, and Dean honestly wasn't sure if that was good or bad. He didn't know much about guitars aside from how to tune them and play them. He paid the fifty dollars, made sure the strings didn't need replacing, and left, hopeful he could make some money.

He only had about fifty dollars left now, so he really needed this to work. They walked to an open area near an intersection, and Dean sat down on the cement, crossing his legs and leaning back against the public water fountain. Meg sat down on the edge of the fountain, dangling her feet next to Dean and dipping her fingers into the water. "What are you gonna play?"

He shrugged, strumming absentmindedly. "Should probably pick something everyone knows, right?"

Meg hummed in agreement. "You need something for people to put the money in." She walked over to the nearest trash can and pulled out an empty coffee cup, setting it down on the ground in front of him. He began strumming the opening chords to the song he'd chosen and she nodded approvingly.

 _"She's got eyes of the bluest skies, as if they thought of rain_  
_I hate to look into those eyes and see an ounce of pain_  
_Her hair reminds me of a warm safe place, w_ _here as a child I'd hide,_  
_And pray for the thunder a_ _nd the rain t_ _o quietly pass me by"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs used:
> 
>  
> 
> [Guns N' Roses - Sweet Child O' Mine (1987)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1w7OgIMMRc4)


	63. Chapter 63

By the time the streetlights kicked on, Dean had emptied the cup into his bag four times. Meg had come and gone all day, but Dean didn't ask where she was going. He assumed she was working. As it began getting darker, she appeared again and took a seat on the edge of the fountain, waiting for him to finish what he was playing.

_"There's a feeling I get when I look to the west, a_ _nd my spirit is crying for leaving._   
_In my thoughts I have seen rings of smoke through the trees, and_ _the voices of those who stand looking._

_Ooh, it makes me wonder,_   
_Ooh, it really makes me wonder._

_And it's whispered that soon, if we all call the tune, t_ _hen the piper will lead us to reason._   
_And a new day will dawn, for those who stand long, a_ _nd the forests will echo with laughter."_

Meg pulled a compact mirror out of her purse, opening it up and re-applying her lipstick. "How much did you make?" she asked as he finished, pressing her lips together in the mirror.

He shrugged, letting the arm he was strumming with fall to his side. "No idea, but I'm done for the day. Need a fix. Care to join me?"

She nodded and he stood up, grabbing his bag and settling the guitar over his shoulder against his back, thankful it had come with a strap. They found a spot behind some bushes in the park behind the fountain and he held the spoon for her as she cooked up the shots.

They sat around for a while, making half-assed small talk as they rode out the high. Eventually Dean leaned forward and dug through his bag to count out the money. "Eighty-six dollars," he said slowly, a little shocked.

She smiled. "Told ya. _Marketable skills_."

He stared at the money in his hand, running his thumb over the dirty bills. "I think I'm going to get a room for the night," he said finally. "I need a shower, and to charge my phone. ...And I really want to sleep in a bed."

She nodded and looked away. "Well... it was nice meeting you," she said quietly.

He turned to her, but didn't look at her. "I know you said you had a place to stay, but... you can stay with me tonight if you want."

She turned back to him, a sly smile spreading across her face. "You're lonely... aren't you?" He looked down again and shrugged. She laughed. "Aw," she said endearingly. "Yes, I'll come stay with you." She paused. "And I won't even charge you," she teased.

He cleared his throat and looked off into the bushes. "What's the cheapest motel?"

She shrugged. "I meet a lot of guys at the Motel 6."

"Alright," he said, shoving the money into his pocket and slowly rising to his feet. "Let's go."

It took them about twenty minutes to walk there. Dean was relieved to find it was only fifty-five dollars for a room. The man at the desk gave them a dirty look as he handed over the keys, but Dean was too excited about his impending shower to care. As they walked away, Meg hooked her arm through Dean's and began giggling.

"What's so funny?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

"That clerk," she laughed. "I'll bet he thought you were hiring me."

He shook his head, chuckling a little as they approached the door to their room. "Nope." He jammed the key into the lock and swung the door open, gesturing his arm out for her to enter. "You should take the night off."

She scoffed, stepping past him and through the doorway. "No such thing." As he closed the door behind them, she shrugged off her jacket. "But you're such a gentleman, maybe tonight I'll work for free. There is only one bed, after all."

His hand fell from the door lock. "...What?"

She turned to him, smiling mischievously. "I said maybe I'll work for free."

He let out a nervous chuckle. "Thank you for the offer, but..." He looked away. "I'm good."

She put her hands on her hips and stared him down. "What, am I not good enough?"

"No," he said quickly. "You... you're hot, really. I'm just... not interested," he said quietly, dropping his bag on the table and pulling the guitar over his head to set that down as well.

She shrugged. "Your loss."

Dean didn't say anything else. He unzipped his bag and pulled out the razor Lisa had given him and the small container of shaving cream he'd picked up at the dollar store. He glanced towards her, and she was sitting on the edge of the bed smoking a cigarette. He walked across the room and into the bathroom without a word, closing and locking the door behind him. He avoided the mirror, immediately turning on the water and getting undressed.

His clothes fell to the floor and he stepped into the bathtub, leaning down and sticking his fingers underneath the water. It was lukewarm, and he closed his eyes and sighed contentedly, eagerly anticipating it getting hotter. After a minute or two, he was satisfied with the temperature and pulled up on the diverter, causing the water to pour from the shower head.

He leaned his head back and groaned, feeling the warm water rushing over his sweaty skin. Quickly, he lathered up his hair, dragging his fingernails along his scalp until it hurt. He turned around and let it sit for a minute as the now hot water beat down on his aching shoulders. Then he rinsed, lathered and rinsed again.

He lathered up the washcloth with the hotel soap and washed the inside of his arms first. He needed the wash cloth to be clean as he scrubbed his track marks, wincing slightly as the cheap, scented soap softened the small scabs and seeped into the wounds. Once he was done he washed his face before moving on to the rest of his body.

He wanted to stay in the shower until the water ran cold, but he needed enough to shave in the sink and he figured Meg might want a shower, too... especially after seeing clients all day. He stepped out and wrapped a threadbare motel towel around his waist, moving towards the sink. In order to shave, he was forced to look at himself in the mirror. His eyes were dull and listless, and his freckles had become much more prominent on skin that was slightly tanned from a week under the Texas sun. Any extra weight he'd had left was gone now, and when he pinched his stomach he was surprised to find he had extra skin, although it wasn't noticeable unless he pulled on it. He shaved quickly, rinsing his face and drying it with his towel before wrapping it around his waist again.

Dean exited the bathroom, dirty clothes in hand, and a cloud of steam followed behind him. He made his way across the room to his bag, keeping his head down. As he rummaged around for his last clean pair of clothes, he could feel her staring at him. "There should still be water left," he said gruffly over his shoulder. He didn't get a response, only the sound of the bathroom door closing.

He dropped his towel and quickly pulled up his boxers, leaving his jeans and shirt on the table for the morning. He then shoved his dirty clothes back into his bag and brought it over to the bed. Sitting down on the edge, facing the wall, he dropped it on the floor and pulled out his phone and phone charger. He plugged it in next to the nightstand and picked up his jacket, reaching into the inside pocket and carefully removing the photo. It was still in good shape, but the edges and corners were beginning to soften.

_"Look what I brought for the birthday boy!"_

_Wide blue eyes turned to him, and Cas grinned when he saw the blunt Dean was dangling between his fingers. "Where did you get weed?"_

_"Some kid in math class. Met him out back after school and he sold me three grams for forty bucks!" Dean said excitedly._

_"Can_ I _smoke?" came a quiet voice from behind them._

_They turned to look at Sam, who was trailing behind._ _"I don't know, Sammy..." Dean said slowly. "You're too young."_

_Cas shrugged. "It's just weed, Dean. It's harmless."_

_Sam nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, Dean, come on."_

_"Sam, you're_ eleven _."_

_"And you're fifteen!" Sam protested. "It's not that big of a difference."_

_Dean rolled his eyes and huffed a sigh. "Fine."_

_"Yesss," Sam hissed, grinning._

_"But first we're gonna take some pictures to commemorate the occasion. You're gonna be fucking wrecked."_

_Cas pulled his digital camera out from one of the pockets of his trench coat, handing it over to Sam, who fiddled with the buttons as Dean lit the blunt._

_"Okay," Sam said after a moment. "Ready."_

_Dean threw his arm around Cas' shoulder, feeling warmth bloom in his chest as Cas leaned into him. He held the blunt up towards the camera and grinned as Sam snapped the photo._

_"Alright," Dean said, letting his arm fall from Cas' shoulder and handing him the blunt. He moved forward and took the camera from Sam, gesturing for him to stand next to Cas._

_Cas took a large pull from the blunt and held it out to Sam, who took it eagerly. Dean held up the camera._

"Is that _you_?" Dean spun his head around, startled, to see Meg standing on the other side of the bed in only a towel, leaning forward and peering at the picture in his hands. "Oh my god, you look like a little _babyyyy_ ," she crooned. "Who is that?" she asked, pointing to Cas.

"No one," he said quickly, turning away from her and dropping the photo onto the night stand. He felt the mattress sink as she sat down on her side of the bed.

"Suuure," she said dryly. "That's why you were staring at that photo for five minutes straight."

His phone went off, giving him the perfect opportunity to ignore her. The notifications kept coming, and while he was relieved Cas hadn't shut his phone off, he was surprised he had so many texts. He lit a cigarette and waited until the notification sounds stopped, then reached forward and picked it up off the nightstand. The lock screen read _13 New Text Messages, 3 Voicemails_.

"Jesus," he said under his breath, swiping the screen. One text was from Cas, and twelve were from Sam.

He opened the one from Cas. It was dated a week ago, the night they'd last spoken, right after his phone had died. " _I love you_ " He lowered the phone into his lap and looked up at the ceiling with a heavy sigh. _Great_. Cas probably thought he fucking hated him when he didn't get a reply to that text, and it was way too late to reply now. It was probably for the best, though. If Cas had been holding on to what they had before, he'd probably let go of it now.

He checked the messages from Sam. A few worried texts per day, spanning over the last week, and three voicemails, all pleading for Dean to contact him. Dean replied quickly. _'sorry sammy. phone was dead. nowhere to charge it. im fine, promise'_ He quickly entered his new dealers number and set his phone back down to finish charging before turning to lie back on the bed.

"What's with all the sighing over there?" Meg asked, shooting him a glance as she smoked a cigarette on the edge of the bed, her legs crossed in front of her.

He crossed his arms behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. "Nothing."

"You can talk to me, Dean," she sighed. "I'm not gonna judge you."

He turned his head to look at her, but she was facing the motel room door. "The guy in the picture is my ex."

"Well now I know why you turned me down," she said with a laugh. "Let me guess... dumped you because you wouldn't stop using."

"No, actually... I left."

"Oh." She paused, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "Why? Seems like you miss the guy."

He hesitated before answering. "I don't know. I guess I just felt like I couldn't be what he deserved." He wasn't sure how much he wanted to say, but then he remembered he was sitting with a drug-addicted prostitute. She was certainly in no position to judge him. He turned his head to look up at the ceiling again. "He said he wouldn't leave no matter what- that he wanted to help me... So when I left, I told myself I was doing the right thing, because I'm never going to get better." He paused and worried his lip. "But the more I think about it, I think maybe I just got scared that the worse I got, he would realize I was a lost cause and leave. He would've been right to... So I left first." He sighed. "I dunno. I don't know what the fuck I was thinking."

She turned to him with a frown. "And you men say _we're_ the complicated ones. Sounds like you had a real catch... Why not enjoy the time you had with him while it lasted? Even if he did end up dumping you."

He felt his eyes welling up, so he tried not to blink for fear they'd spill over. "I didn't want any bad memories of us. Y'know, lying, fighting. I know that sounds stupid-"

"It's not stupid," she interrupted. "Just nonsensical." He rolled over to face away from her and reached into his bag, pulling out a baggie of powder. "Good idea," she muttered, turning away from him again and reaching into her purse for her own.

He quickly wiped his eyes with the heel of his palm and got the rest of his gear together. As soon as she was finished, she peeled back the comforter and dropped her towel. "Whoa," Dean said, looking away and setting his needle on the nightstand. "What're you doin'?"

"Layin' down," she responded hazily, climbing into the bed and pulling the blanket over herself. "I plan to make use of this bed, 'n' 'm not sleepin' in those dirty clothes." She stretched into the mattress with a groan. "Soooo much better than my friend's shitty couch. 'Sides, I thought you were gay."

He didn't respond, just watched her settle into the mattress and pillow. It definitely looked comfortable. He stumbled off the mattress and pulled his side of the blanket back, sliding into bed next to her in just his boxers. He settled down on his side, facing the wall with his back to her. It wasn't the greatest mattress, but he was high as hell, so it felt like a damn cloud compared to park benches and concrete. He stretched out a little, wiggling his toes, grateful to be sleeping barefoot for the first time in a week. He felt like he'd stripped off an entire layer of grime in the shower, and he could feel the starchy sheets rubbing against his clean skin.

His favorite part, though, was that he was behind a locked door and he could actually let go, really give in to his high, and also really sleep. The sleep was never restful on the street. He always had to be on high alert. He reached over to the nightstand to turn of the lamp, and he felt her moving, and then an arm was snaking around his side.

He involuntarily twitched under her touch. "What're you doin'?" he slurred.

"Come on," she murmured, bringing her hand back to his side and running her palm along his ribs. He couldn't help but sigh, feeling her hot breath on the back of his neck and warmth radiating from her fingers. "Cuddling's a basic human need." He was so high, and he had really missed sleeping next to someone the past two weeks. Her skin was soft and her body was warm.

"Okay."

She scooted forward a bit more, draping her arm around his waist, and he could feel her breasts pressed up against his back. "You clean up real nice, Dean," she murmured into his shoulder.

"Thanks," he said flatly into the darkness.

She made a light humming noise and tightened the arm around his waist. "'N you're really good... at guitar..." she mumbled as she drifted off. His eyes closed and he shifted a little further into the mattress, letting the heroin coursing through his veins carry him into unconsciousness.

.

Dean awoke to the smell of cigarette smoke. He opened his eyes, and the first thing that came into focus was the nightstand, and the needle and photo lying on it. He closed his eyes again and groaned.

"You awake over there?"

He could tell by her voice that she was already fucked up. He pushed himself up a bit to reach out for his phone, and he squinted at the screen. "It's only four," he muttered, falling back onto the pillow.

She laughed sadly. "Withdrawals don't wake you up yet? Lucky you." He rolled over onto his back and turned his head to look at her, and she was staring down at him with a frown. "You were sweaty as fuck, by the way."

"Sorry?" he mumbled sleepily.

"You kep' sayin' _cas_." He turned his head to face the ceiling, closing his eyes. "What is that?" she asked.

"My ex's name."

"Oh... _Cas_ issa name?" She scrunched her face up. "Weird name."

"It's a nickname," Dean said flatly, re-opening his eyes and reaching to the nightstand for his pack of cigarettes. He lit one and laid back on the pillow.

"For what?"

He pursed his lips, unsure if he should tell her. "Castiel." She scoffed a laugh, and he flicked narrowed eyes towards her. "What?"

"Castiel," she repeated in disbelief.

"Yes."

She looked away and laughed again. "That's the angel of Thursday."

"What?"

"Castiel... He's the angel of Thursday." She paused and looked off across the room. "My parents were crazy religious nuts. I was born on a Thursday, and they always said he was _watchin' over me_." She said the last part sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

Dean studied her, taking a drag off his cigarette. As he exhaled, he smirked a bit. "Guess he didn't do a very good job."

She grinned and turned to punch him in the shoulder. "Shut up."

"Ow," he laughed, gripping the spot she'd punched.

She stared at him for a moment. "You wanna get some breakfast? My treat."

His face fell a bit. "Your..." He shook his head. "No. I'm not letting you buy me anything when you had to fuck dudes for your money."

Meg looked hurt for a split second, but she immediately covered it with indifference. "You know, you act like I'm some kind of fucking martyr or something. It's not that big of a deal."

"How is it not-"

"Because it's just not," she interrupted. "The money's good, and it's just sex." She studied him for a few seconds, trying to read his face, but it was utterly neutral. "You could do it, too, you know."

He furrowed his brows and looked at her in shock. "...What?"

"You could do it, too," she repeated. "With that face? And you'd make way more than eighty-six dollars a day," she said, turning her head and flicking her wrist dismissively. "You can make that in fifteen minutes."

"No fucking way," he said dismissively, pausing and shaking his head a bit. "Besides, what woman would pay to have sex with me?"

She laughed. "Well, you're right about that. Male sex workers are mostly hired by men. But you're gay, right?"

He scoffed. "T- that doesn't mean I want to fuck dudes for money!" he exclaimed, feeling his face heating up. "And I'm not gay," he added under his breath, crossing his arms across his chest. "I'm bi."

"Well _excuuuuse me_ ," she said, rolling her eyes and straightening up, turning back around to go through her purse. "Anyway, you can earn your breakfast another way, if you want."

He glanced at her and raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Yeah? How?"

"I've got an appointment today. The client pays big but he creeps me the fuck out. My boyfriend used to come with me, but... y'know." She shrugged.

"Your boyfriend... would go with you... while you fucked other guys?" Dean asked in disbelief.

"Yep. He liked watchin', actually," she said casually.

"Uh..." He put his cigarette out and sat up, propping himself up on his elbow, and cleared his throat. "So, you want me to go with you," he stated.

"Yes."

He pursed his lips. "Okay." He paused, staring off across the room. "What time is your... _appointment_?"

"Noon."

He leaned back into the pillow. "Good, because I intend to use this room until check-out."

"Yeah, you might want to take another shower before we go." She paused, finally twisting around to look at him. "You were having some kind of nightmare."

"Not surprising," he said flatly, keeping his eyes on the ceiling.

"You have 'em a lot?" she asked.

He murmured confirmation and closed his eyes, remembering Cas waking him from them so many times. "Night," he mumbled, rolling back onto his side to face the wall.

"G'night Dean."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs used:
> 
> [Led Zeppelin - Stairway to Heaven (1971)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8pPvNqOb6RA)


	64. Chapter 64

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: i guess i should warn that there is description of meg with a client (D/s and light BDSM) in this chapter. them at the client's house is most of the chapter, actually. (i cant wait to put dean and cas back together..ugh) oh, and there's a lot of meg being way too blunt for dean xD

The next morning, Cas awoke to Cujo stretching and kicking him in the shoulder. He rolled over onto his back, lifting his arms above his head and stretching. He felt his vertebrae pop and a sharp pain shot down his spine, jolting him awake. Instantly, he relaxed his muscles, grimacing as the pain slowly faded.

He lit a cigarette and smoked it slowly, staring up at the ceiling for a while and thinking back to the night before. He had to admit, Rich did make him happy. He was kind and genuine, and he always put a smile on Cas' face. He wasn't sure exactly what he was experiencing, though. His first crush had quickly turned into something more when he fell in love with Dean, and while he'd had his fun with others as they grew up as "just friends", he never experienced what he felt for Dean for anyone else. He honestly wasn't sure what a normal crush was supposed to feel like.

He grabbed his phone from the nightstand a saw that he had a text from Rich, explaining that his father was going downhill quickly and he wasn't going to be around for a while. He'd taken time off from work and he was going to be spending his time with him until he passed, but for Cas to text him if he really needed him. Cas texted him back right away. _'Ill be fine! Please let me know if you need anything at all'_

He set his phone back down on the nightstand and sighed. Dean had only been gone for two weeks. He wasn't going to pursue something with Rich just to hurt him when he realized he was just confused or lonely or something. Especially with what Rich was going through right now.

He snuffed his cigarette out in the ashtray and slowly rose out of bed. Cujo jumped up and followed him to the back door, where Cas let him out to do his business. He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, staring out into the gray February sky as Cujo sniffed the grass. He needed to figure out how to occupy his time when he wasn't in school, before he went crazy.

* * *

Dean poked his eggs with his fork, elbows propped on the dingy table of the diner. "So... what do I have to do?"

Meg shrugged as she took a gulp of her coffee. "Just be there. If I say your name, then... y'know."

"I _don't_ know, actually... What am I supposed to do?"

"Just use your judgement, Dean. If he's just getting out of line, tell him off or something." She shrugged again. "Honestly, most guys are on their best behavior with another guy there."

Dean didn't speak right away. "These guys don't, y'know... get mad you're bringing someone? They don't mind being watched?"

Meg shot him a look that clearly read _are you serious?_ "Dean, these men are hiring a stranger for sex. They really don't care." She paused. "And if they creep me out enough to warrant back-up, yet they don't want me bringing anyone... then fuck 'em. They can hire someone else." She lifted the coffee mug to her lips again.

Dean nodded and went back to his food. Meg set her mug down and placed her purse on the table, pulling out her mirror and fixing her make-up. "You almost done?" she said into the mirror.

"Mhmm," Dean mumbled around a mouthful of bacon. It was his first real, hot meal in over a week, and he was thoroughly enjoying it. Just as he swallowed the last bite of bacon, and was licking some grease off his thumb, she peeked up from her mirror with a smirk.

"Was it good?"

He quickly removed his finger from his mouth, letting his hand fall beneath the table and nodding sheepishly. "Yes... thank you."

"Y'know," she said slowly, trying to hide the smile tugging at her lips. "You make those same noises in the bedroom, and you will make a lot of men very happy. And very happy equals good money."

Dean nearly choked on the sip of coffee he was taking. "Christ," he coughed, his face flushing. "Glad I'm done, 'cause I just lost my appetite."

She huffed a sigh. "You're such a prude."

He barked a laugh. "Me? A prude? _Please_."

She snapped her mirror shut and shoved it back into her bag. "I know, I know." She sighed, bringing her eyes up to meet his. "You're a total slut. That's why I don't get why you're so adamantly refusing."

His eyes widened and he looked around to see if anyone at any of the nearby tables had heard. It seemed no one had. He turned back to her, leaning forward over the table. "Meg, what the _fuck_?" he asked in a hushed whisper.

She raised an eyebrow and gave a short glance around. "What?" she asked innocently once she'd turned back to him. "I'm a slut, too," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "It's okay."

He leaned back into the booth seat, his face absolutely burning by now. Sure, before Cas and Lisa he'd fooled around with a good portion of the girls in town his age. He'd considered himself confident and willing to sleep with almost any female, until he'd gotten with Cas and suddenly felt like a bumbling virgin again. But how the hell would she know anything about him or his past? He'd only known her for a day, and he'd given her no indication of the number of his sexual partners. How could she tell? Was it written on his face? Obvious in his body language? What else did she know? His mind instantly flashed to his biggest secret- the way he liked being pushed around.

He felt guilty for wanting that, after everything his father had done. He wasn't sure why the thought of similar behavior in the bedroom turned him on. He never brought it up with anyone, even Cas, because of the shame he felt over it. He was convinced it made him sick in the head. He also knew it made him a little bitch, and he knew he wasn't supposed to be- he was a man, dammit- but it also kind of turned him on being thought of that way.

"Um, are you okay over there? Are you breathing?"

His eyes snapped up from the table he didn't realize they were glued to and she was giving him a blank stare. "S- sorry... what?"

She was staring at him with wide eyes. "Your face is red. Like, really red. Did I... did I embarrass you that bad?" She let out a soft, nervous chuckle. "I'm sorry."

"No, it- it's not that," he stammered, looking away. "It's just..." He paused and sighed, raising his eyes to look at her without lifting his head. "Shouldn't we be going?"

She took her phone out of her bag, glancing at it quickly to check the time before shoving it back in. "Yep." She dug through her bag again and dropped a few bills on the table, then scooted over and pushed herself up from the booth seat. Dean quickly gulped down the remainder of his coffee, grabbing his bag and guitar and following her out the door.

"So, where are we meeting this guy?" he asked as he came up behind her.

"His house," she replied, looking down at her phone and quickly mashing buttons.

"That's safe," Dean scoffed.

"Do you think I don't have a weapon?" When he didn't answer right away, she glanced over at him. "You carry something?"

"Yes."

"Good." They fell silent and walked for a few miles, weaving through people on the street. It was nearly sixty-five degrees and the sun was beating down on them, so Dean was wearing only a tee shirt. He hated doing so, as he was well aware of how obvious his track marks were, but he'd rather avoid sweating when he wasn't going to have access to a shower any time soon (and he'd just taken one). She took a detour down an alley so they could shoot up before getting there.

Finally they were walking past houses and she turned onto a well-manicured lawn. She ducked her head, letting her hair fall in front of her face, and swiftly crossed the yard, rounding the corner of the house and unlatching a wooden gate. She stepped aside and motioned for him to pass her, then followed him and latched the gate behind him. She walked past him and as he trailed behind her, he noticed the fenced-in yard had a large in-ground pool.

"Jeez, classy place, huh?" he commented under his breath.

She nodded, making her way over towards the large stone patio. She slid open the glass door and entered, waving him in behind her. As she closed the door again, he looked around the room. The living room was large and open, with a glossy wooden floor and furniture in pristine condition. There were paintings on the wall and a chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

Dean heard footsteps and he turned to see a well-dressed, clean-cut man entering the room from the kitchen. He had a glass of what Dean assumed was alcohol in one hand. He quickly made his way over to Meg, snaking his hand around her waist and pulling her hips into his. He leaned down and kissed her hard. When he pulled back, he looked down into her eyes. "Who's this?" he asked, minutely nodding his head in Dean's direction. "Is this your new bitch?"

She stared up at him with wide eyes and nodded. Dean's face twisted into confusion, but he didn't say anything.

"Let's go," he said, taking her by the arm and leading her towards the staircase. She glanced at Dean and nodded for him to follow. He trailed behind them up the stairs, down a hallway, and into a bedroom. There was a large bed to the right, neatly made, and a loveseat in the far left corner. Dean moved across the room quickly, taking a seat on the loveseat as the man pushed Meg onto the bed.

"Clothes off," he demanded, and she quickly complied, shucking off her jacket and yanking her shirt over head. She threw them both to the floor and shimmied down her skirt and panties. He took a gulp of his drink and set it down on the nightstand. As he set one knee on the bed, she stiffened.

"Money," she said coldly.

"Right," he muttered. He pulled a bit of folded money out of his pocket and handed it to her, and she shoved it into her purse that she'd set on the opposite nightstand. Dean noticed a small bottle of lotion and a small kitten figurine on it. He figured that was the girlfriend's side of the bed. Once Meg had tucked away the money, he leaned forward and grabbed her wrist, pushing it down into the bed. He hovered over her face. "Tell me what you want."

"I want you to fuck me," she said slowly, staring into his eyes.

He surged forward and pressed their lips together, sloppy and rough. Dean looked away, feeling embarrassment rising in his gut. He pulled out his pack of cigarettes and lit one, taking a long pull and looking around the room.

"Hey, put that out." His head snapped back to the bed, where the man had lifted his head and was glaring at him. Dean kind of froze, and he spoke again. "Are you deaf? If my wife comes home tonight and smells-"

"Dean, put the cigarette out," Meg said, her voice rough.

"Um..." He looked around, noticing a door to the bathroom on his right. He stood up and stepped towards the sink, turning on the faucet and knocking the cherry off his cigarette to be washed down the drain. He could hear the man in the other room.

"Yeah, that's right, he only listens to his dom, huh? And his dom only listens to me."

"Yes, master."

Dean looked up into the mirror and noticed his cheeks were flushed pink. He had no idea Meg did _this_ with her clients. He turned away and took his seat back on the couch. If he had to watch this and couldn't smoke, he was at least going to have a drink. He retrieved his flask, which he'd just filled the night before, from his bag and quickly unscrewed the cap, taking a long swig.

"You're a good little bitch, just for me, aren't you?" the man growled into Meg's ear, pinning her by both wrists now.

"Just for you," Meg echoed.

He released her wrists and leaned back. "Stay." She didn't move, and he hopped off the bed and stripped down. Quickly climbing back on top of her, he grabbed her wrists again and shimmied up, on his knees, towards her face, his erection bobbing between his legs. "Open."

She opened her mouth and he shoved his cock in, grinding his hips down and fucking her face. She closed her eyes and moaned around his cock.

"Open your eyes," he demanded, his voice deep and commanding. "Look at me."

Dean looked down at the floor, his face absolutely burning. He was embarrassed for Meg, or maybe he was embarrassed for himself, because he kind of wanted to be in her position. Not with a stranger; he didn't think he could trust anybody but Cas that much. He found himself regretting not making his wishes known when they were still together, although he didn't entertain the thought for long; there were quite a few other things higher up on his list of regrets.

He lifted his head to take another sip from his flask to see the man removing himself from Meg's mouth. "Turn over." She quickly flipped over onto her stomach, and he leaned over her to open the drawer of his nightstand. He pulled out a piece of cloth and a condom and slammed the drawer shut. He dropped the condom on the bed and grabbed her wrists, settling them together on her back. She stayed motionless as he tied them, wincing a bit at the tightness. "On your knees," he ordered. She brought her knees up so that her ass was in the air and her head was buried in the pillow. "Fuck," the man hissed. "So pretty and obedient for me."

Dean squirmed in his seat a bit as he felt his dick twitch. He instantly felt guilty. While Meg didn't look uncomfortable, she certainly didn't seem like she was enjoying it, either. It wasn't watching them that was turning him on, though, it was listening to the man ordering her around and praising her. He lowered his head into his hands as he heard the crinkle of the condom wrapper. Then he heard the familiar sound of skin against skin as the man began pounding into Meg. He took another drink and pulled his phone out of his pocket, fiddling with the buttons, trying to distract himself, but there was nothing to do on his phone. He couldn't stop himself from continuously stealing glances.

If only he could do things over again with Cas. He would tell him everything, do anything he asked. He would be such a good boy this time. He squirmed in his seat again. He wasn't sure if he accidentally made a whimpering noise, or what, but the man suddenly looked over at him, his eyes taking in Dean's flushed face. He turned back to Meg, leaning over her and grabbing her hair, yanking her head up towards him and causing her to gasp.

"I think he likes it," he growled into her ear. "Just like the last one."

The next half an hour dragged on. Finally, Dean heard him groaning and sighing. He glanced up to see him withdrawing from her and peeling the condom off, dropping it onto her stomach and pushing himself up off the bed. He bent over and quickly untied her restraints, dropping the cloth onto his nightstand. "Thanks, sweetie," he said coldly.

"Yep," she responded, rolling over and grabbing her clothes from the floor. She rose from the bed and pulled the condom off, dropping it onto the bedspread. She quickly got dressed before grabbing her purse and nodding towards the door. Dean scrambled up and followed her, head down. As he approached the doorway, he glanced up and the guy was staring him down with hunger in his eyes.

They quickly made their way out of the house, through the yard, and back to the street. As they stepped onto the sidewalk, Dean opened his mouth to speak, but he realized he had no clue what to say. He decided to light a cigarette and wait for Meg to speak. She lit one as well, rubbing her wrists absentmindedly, and walked quickly back in the direction of the center of town. She ducked into the first alleyway she saw, walking a couple of yards in and taking a seat against the wall. He sat down next to her and she immediately pulled her bag and rig from her purse.

As the drugs took hold, she let her head fall back against the bricks. "Hate that guy," she mumbled, her first words since they'd left.

"Why d'you deal with 'im?" Dean asked hazily through his own high.

She rolled her head to turn and look at him, a wide grin spreading across her face. "Two hundred bucks for the hour," she said with a laugh. His eyes widened a bit. "The fuck was up with you?" she asked.

"What, uh... what d'you mean?" he asked, lighting a cigarette and avoiding looking at her.

"Well," she chuckled, "I didn't think you'd _watch_ , first of all."

"'M sorry," he mumbled, staring down at his cigarette.

She shrugged her shoulders lazily. "I don't care. The guy likes it, anyway." She rolled her eyes. "Likes people watchin' him perform."

Dean wrinkled his nose a bit, pausing for a moment before speaking. He didn't want to bring it up, but he couldn't stop thinking about it. "Y'know... didn't take you for the submissive type," he finally said, trying for nonchalance and failing.

She scoffed a laugh. "I'm not... but he gets what he pays for. 'N' he gets off on dominatin' another dom, 'specially with my sub around. Sorry about tha', by the way," she said, referencing letting the man call Dean a bitch. "It's fantasy, so I let 'im think what he wants. That was, uh... the relationship I had with my boyfriend, so... Guess he figured you were the same." Dean didn't respond. "I could see your face," she mumbled. "I didn't realize you were so vanilla for a gay guy." She scoffed a laugh. "That was moderate."

"Vanilla?" he parroted, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not..."

"So why were you so uncomfortable?" she giggled.

He looked down at his cigarette, flicking it a few times, although ash stopped coming off after the second flick. "Dunno," he mumbled.

"Oh god, di' you get turned on?" she slurred, giggling again.

"Meg, what the hell," he grumbled, shooting her a quick glare before looking back down at his hands. "I still barely know you."

"Oh, come _on_ , Dean," she groaned. "My whole life revolves around sex. It's not some huge taboo."

"Well, it is for me," he muttered, still looking away. "I couldn't even admit to myself I liked guys 'til a li'l over a year ago."

"I don't get what that has to do anything," she said slowly. "You were watchin' me with a guy... Isn't that the same as hetero porn?"

"That's... that's not what I was talkin' about," he said quietly, his eyes flicking up to meet her gaze.

Her eyes widened and she laughed. "Oh my god," she said with realization. "You're a fuckin' sub." She closed her eyes and rolled her head along the brick again to face skyward, chuckling to herself. "I should've seen it."

"What's that s'posed to mean?" he said quickly, feeling heat creeping up his neck and ears.

"You follow me around like a lost puppy. Always lowerin' your head and lookin' up at me... even though you're taller. And you totally melted into me when you were the li'l spoon last night."

He groaned and lowered his head into his hands. "Can we talk about somethin' else?"

"Yeah," she said with a sigh. "I actually gotta go. More money to be made." She leaned forward and placed her palms on the pavement, pushing herself up and leaning against the wall. She closed her eyes for a moment, melting into the bricks, before straightening up. "Gimmie your phone."

He pulled it out of his pocket and held it up to her. She took it from him with a chuckle. "See? Didn't even question me. _Such_ a sub."

Dean looked down at the ground again until she tapped his shoulder with his phone. "I texted myself so you have my number. Hit me up later or tomorrow or somethin'."

He bent his arm at the elbow and took his phone from her, barely looking up. "Okay."

She reached down and smoothed over his hair with her palm. "Bye, Dean. Good luck today."

"Thanks... you too," he mumbled. He watched as she walked down the alleyway and onto the sidewalk, disappearing around the corner. He lit another cigarette and stared at the brick wall across from him, gripping the wolf pendant in his clenched fist. He missed Cas so fucking much. He leaned his head back and slowly finished his cigarette, his eyes closed.

Finally he huffed a sigh and rose to his feet, walking to the nearest park and sitting down on the bench. He flipped his guitar around so it was in front of him and cleared his throat, beginning to strum.

_"Lonely is the night when you find yourself alone_   
_Your demons come to light and your mind is not your own_   
_Lonely is the night when there's no one left to call_   
_You feel the time is right, say the writin's on the wall_   
_It's a high time to fight when the walls are closin' in_   
_Call it what you like- It's time you got to win_   
_Lonely, lonely, lonely. Your spirit's sinkin' down_   
_You find you're not the only stranger in this town_

_Red lights, green lights, stop 'n go jive_   
_Headlines, deadlines jammin' your mind_   
_You been stealin' shots from the side_   
_Let your feelin's go for a ride_

_There's danger out tonight, the man is on the prowl_   
_Get the dynamite, the boys are set to prowl_   
_Lonely is the night when you hear the voices call_   
_Are you ready for a fight? Do you wanna take it all?_

_Slowdown, showdown, waitin' on line_   
_Showtime, no time for changin' your mind_   
_Streets are ringin', march to the sound_   
_Let your secrets follow you down_

_Somebody's watchin' you baby- so much you can do_   
_Nobody's stoppin' you baby, from makin' it too_   
_One glimpse'll show you now baby, what the music can do_   
_One kiss'll show you now baby-it can happen to you_

_No more sleepin', wastin' our time_   
_Midnight creepin's first on our minds_   
_No more lazin' 'round the TV_   
_You'll go crazy-come out with me"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs used:
> 
> [Billy Squier - Lonely is the Night (1981)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tKlu3A3BBgE)


	65. Chapter 65

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I know it's out of order, as Cas' parts are taking place in the evening and Dean's are in the morning, but I wanted to start the chapter with Cas and end with Dean, so oh well lol. But it's all the same day, and takes place a week after the last chapter.
> 
> I'd post a warning on this chapter, but I think you all knew it was coming. -hides-

Cas raised his drink up in front of him, maneuvering through the crowd to the bathroom. A few days ago, he'd decided he needed to get out and meet people. He searched the internet for a local club playing specifically sixties through eighties music, and lo and behold, he'd found several. Oh, how he loved California. Luckily, this one was eighteen and up, not twenty-one, so he was able to get in. He pushed open the bathroom door and set his glass on the edge of the sink. He felt kind of bad accepting the strangers offer for a drink, as he clearly had intentions Cas had no plans of indulging in, but he didn't have to fuck someone just because they bought him something, so he took the drink anyway. He sat at the bar with the guy for a minute, but he started giving Cas the creeps, so he'd excused himself to the bathroom.

He turned on the faucet and splashed some cold water on his face. It was hot as hell in the club, and the coke had him sweating quite a bit. But a little more wouldn't hurt, and just as he shoved his bag back into his pocket and picked up his glass, he felt his phone vibrating in his jeans. He realized he'd been moving most of the night, and it could've been a text from hours ago, as he wouldn't have heard it ringing or felt it vibrating. He set his drink back down and hastily pulled his phone out from his pocket. It was Rich, and the text was just sent. They'd spoken a few times over the last week, but Cas hadn't really wanted to disturb his last few days with his father.

He squinted at the screen, which seemed to be vibrating. He knew it was his due to his own inebriated vision. After a moment, he made out the words. _'hes gone...this morning.'_

Cas' shoulders drooped and he swallowed. _Shit._ He quickly started typing as best he could. _'Im sory rich... Do yu want me to come over?'_ He picked up his glass again and downed the last of the amber liquid. As he waited for Rich's reply, he caught himself in the mirror out of the corner of his eye. He stared at himself for a minute, still sometimes forgetting how different he looked now. His phone went off again and he tore his eyes away from the mirror.

_'i dont really want to be here... can i come to your place?'_

_'Yes... ill be there in 20 mins'_ Cas pocketed his phone and exited the bathroom, pushing his way through the crowd and depositing his empty glass on the bar. He began navigating through the crowd again, and finally he pushed out the front door, the cool air chilling his sweaty skin. He made his way towards the Impala, pulling his keys from his pocket and unlocking the door. As she started up, the radio came on.

_If you wanna hang out, you've got to take her out- cocaine_   
_If you wanna get down, down on the ground- cocaine_   
_She don't lie, she don't lie, she don't lie- cocaine_   
_If you got bad news, you wanna kick them blues- cocaine_   
_When your day is done and you wanna run- cocaine_   
_She don't lie, she don't lie, she don't lie- cocaine_   
_If your thing is gone and you wanna ride on- cocaine_   
_Don't forget this fact, you can't get it back- cocaine_

He chuckled to himself at the irony and drove as quickly as he could through the city, arriving home in fifteen minutes. As he was getting out of the car, Rich pulled up behind him. Cas turned to the truck, looking down and fiddling with his keys as he waited for Rich to exit the vehicle. He was still high, and it felt like Rich was taking forever. Finally the door creaked open and he stepped out, swinging it shut behind him.

Cas looked up. Rich's face was pale, except for around his eyes, which were pink and puffy. "Hey," Cas said softly.

Rich stopped a few feet short of him. "Hey," he said back, his voice a bit hoarse.

Cas lifted his arms a bit at his sides, offering a hug, and Rich stepped forward and threw his arms around him, squeezing him tightly and nearly lifting him off the ground. Cas never realized before just how strong Rich was. He figured it was all those boxes of heavy furniture he lifted at work all day. Rich held him tightly for a moment before releasing him, stepping back, and clearing his throat.

Cas nodded towards the house and they both headed in. Rich immediately sat down on the couch and Cas made his way towards the kitchen. "Are you hungry?" He glanced over and Rich was nodding, patting Cujo's head, so he began preparing food. He worked in silence, letting Cujo outside to potty and quickly showering and changing into pajamas as the food cooked. Once it was finished, he set a plate down in front of Rich and lowered himself onto the couch.

"Thanks," Rich said softly, picking up the plate. "I haven't really been cooking... or anything. He, uh... wasn't eating, so..."

Cas frowned, lifting his legs up to sit cross-legged and turning to face Rich. He folded his hands across his lap, fiddling with his fingers. "I... I really don't know what to say, except that I'm here for you."

Rich smiled sadly, stabbing some food onto his fork. "That's all I need, Cas."

Cas nodded and stood up, going into the bedroom to grab his bag of weed and the bong. He sat back down on the couch and packed the bowl head, handing it to Rich. They sat in silence for a little bit, smoking and watching Family Guy.

Finally Cas spoke. "Do you... want to talk about it?"

Rich set down his plate, swallowing his last bite. "I dunno. I guess." He sighed, looking down at the empty plate. "Honestly... I'm just glad he's not suffering anymore. He was sick for a long time."

Cas was quiet, trying to figure out how to tactfully ask how he passed. He knew W _hat was wrong with him?_ would be insensitive, but he wasn't sure how else to word it.

As if Rich knew what he was thinking, he spoke again. "He had cancer." He paused. "Went into remission a few times, but... it always came back." He reached into his pocket, pulling out his own bag, and packed the bowl head again. "This past year was really bad," he said quietly. Cas nodded sympathetically. "It just fucking sucks. I don't have any other family except Tom... and my sister, but she lives in New York."

"Do you need help... making arrangements?"

Rich tilted his head back against the couch and closed his eyes, letting out a long sigh. "Yes."

"Okay. I'll help you." He paused. "Maybe for tonight, though, we can talk about something else? Like, uh..." He thought for a moment. "Were you close with your dad before he got sick?"

"Oh, yeah," Rich said quickly. "We didn't always like the same stuff, but he always supported me. He hated soccer, but when I started playing, he came to every single practice, and every game. I hated football, but I would watch it with him anyway. When I was vegetarian for two years in high school he learned about it and cooked meatless stuff for me."

"You played soccer?"

Rich nodded. "Yep. It was fun... kept me in shape."

"Which one is soccer again?" Cas asked, tilting his head. In his sheltered American life, he'd managed to mostly avoid the subject of sports.

Rich smiled. "I forgot you Europeans call it football. So what do you call actual football?"

Cas shrugged. "...American football?"

"And you said the English language was lazy," Rich teased, bringing the bong to his lips and lighting the lighter.

"Well, it is," Cas laughed. "They don't really play football over there."

"Don't you mean _we_?" Rich asked, exhaling his hit.

Cas shrugged again. "I was adopted, and mostly raised here, so I'm kind of in-between. I have no idea what heritage I actually am... I guess in every other aspect besides first language, I would consider myself American."

"Wait... you were adopted?" Cas nodded. "So..." Rich paused. "Stop me if I'm being intrusive or insensitive, but... what's it like? Being raised by someone other than your birth parents?"

Cas shrugged a third time. "I was a baby, so I don't really know any other parents."

"Do you... ever think about finding your birth parents?" Rich asked quietly.

Cas frowned. "No."

"Do you mind if I ask why? I think the curiosity would kill me."

Cas looked away. "They dumped me at a church in the middle of the night, so... no."

Rich frowned. So apparently Dean leaving wasn't the first time Cas was abandoned, and even if he _wanted_ to find his parents, there was no paper trail; no way to find them. "I dunno," he started, trying to find something to say to make it seem better. "Maybe they just couldn't care for you properly... Maybe they thought you'd be better off." Rich grimaced a bit. That had sounded way more comforting in his head.

Cas chewed his lip, staring at the coffee table. "Maybe."

Rich cleared his throat. "Um... what about you? You close with your dad?"

Cas pulled a cigarette out of his pack, lighting it and shaking his head lightly. "Not really. My parents work a _lot_."

"What do they do?"

Cas hesitated, his eyes flicking up to Rich. "We're supposed to be talking about you."

Rich pursed his lips. "I don't wanna talk about that anymore. But my dad was a teacher."

"Okay." Cas took a deep breath. He'd never even told Dean this. Dean had no idea of the actual extent of his parents money. "They're actors."

"Really?" Rich raised an eyebrow. "No way... What have they been in?"

Cas looked down at his cigarette. "They're famous in France. They've only starred in French films."

Rich raised an eyebrow. "Why do you guys live here? I'm sure the U.S. sucks compared to France."

Cas sighed. "Honestly... I think they moved here to get us away from that life. Nobody knows us here, y'know? My oldest brother did some acting as a kid, and then the whole child actor thing kind of blew up in his face. He was doing drugs, and my parents couldn't stop him. The paparazzi was up his ass, documenting his downfall." He paused. Although he was only seven, he remembered it fairly well. He'd always had an excellent memory. "It was really bad," he continued. "So we moved here... but you can't ever really get away from that. He didn't stop... for years. Eventually... y'know." He focused his attention on the bong, taking a large hit. He really didn't want to think about his brother.

Rich was silent, searching for the correct response to no avail. He already felt like he'd pressed Cas for too much.

Cas exhaled his hit and passed the bong to Rich. "After he died, my parents packed up and moved again. To Kansas." _And then I met Dean._

"I'm sorry... about your brother," Rich said quietly. He looked down at the floor, feeling guilt rising in the pit of his stomach. If he'd known Cas had a family history of addiction, he _never_ would've offered him coke. He shouldn't have done it anyway. He was never again going to assume that anyone else could control themselves like he could.

"It was nearly ten years ago," Cas said with a shrug, interrupting his thoughts. "My parents threw me in therapy... it helped a little. Everything that happened did give me a better understanding of addiction, though."

Rich nodded sympathetically.

Cas exhaled sharply through his nose, reaching out and handing the bong to Rich. "Would you like to stay over, and we can work on the arrangements tomorrow?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah. That sounds good."

* * *

Dean thought he was doing pretty well for himself... for being homeless drug addict. He was bringing in enough a day to support his habit, buy a pack of smokes, and maybe one meal. It was getting a bit harder to play, though, the more he used. He noticed himself screwing up the notes and singing out of key. Eventually he stopped singing altogether and just focused on playing. None of the passers-by seemed to notice, and it didn't effect his income for the day, so he didn't waste much energy worrying about it. He'd comfortably settled into a routine; a routine that was shattered when he woke up one day and his guitar was gone.

He didn't even notice right away; he'd awoken with a start when a car honked their horn around the corner, straightening up off the cold cement and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He lifted his arms above his head and stretched, letting out a long groan. He had just lit his first cigarette of the day, and as he looked around the alley, blinking slowly, he realized he was missing something- the guitar. He tried to think back to the night before. Maybe he'd gotten too fucked up and left it somewhere, but considering he'd managed to hold onto it for a week, he didn't think that was likely. Then he remembered having it before he went to sleep, although that could have been a memory of any night the past week. He patted down all of his pockets and dug through his bag, as usually he held onto some dope for the morning before his day got started, but he couldn't find anything. That's when he remembered he'd been up late the night before and used it all. He was completely out. How stupid could he be? He wouldn't have any money, either, at least not until he played for a while. He cursed past Dean.

 _Please, like_ past _Dean is any stupider than_ today _Dean. Or_ tomorrow _Dean, either, for that matter._

He could feel his chest tightening and his hands beginning to shake. He'd been numbing his panic attacks for so long, it was no surprise one was waiting for him to let his guard down to rear it's ugly head. He dug through his bag for his flask, which was half full, and downed it. Then he pulled out his phone and called Meg.

"Wha's up?" she asked groggily.

"Meg, someone stole my fucking guitar," he said quickly.

"Calm down," she said slowly, hearing the panic in his voice. "Are you sure you didn't just get too fucked up and leave it somewhere? Are you sure you had it when you went to sleep last night?"

"Yes. I don't know what to do. I don't have any dope or any money and no way to make any more." As soon as it came out of his mouth, he knew what she was going to say.

"Dean," she huffed. "I think you know what you have to do. There's always work, and it's really not that bad, I swear. Especially when you do it while you're fucked up."

"I don't have any," he repeated. "And... I don't think I can," he added, his voice low.

He could practically hear her eye-roll through the phone. "Yes, you can. The fuck is the difference working with your hands as a day laborer or working with your mouth? Either way, you're selling your fucking body." She paused. "It's either that or steal, and that's not exactly wise in _Texas_ , unless you want to get shot." When Dean didn't respond, she sighed. "Come to the Motel 6. I'll give you a hit. ...And I've got a guy coming for a blow-job later. You can do it."

"Meg, I..." He struggled for something to say; to come up with some reason as to why this was a bad idea.

"The guy pays sixty bucks. And he nuts in like ten minutes." Dean groaned, letting his head fall back against the wall with a thud and staring off at a chain link fence farther down the alley. He was quiet for a full minute or two, prompting Meg to ask, "Dean? ...You still there?"

"Yes," he mumbled, closing his eyes.

"So what's it gonna be?" she asked.

His hand instinctively reached up, his fingers wrapping around the pendant, and he felt sick. "Fine." He hung up and immediately panic was rising in his gut again. He couldn't do this. Well... he could, because he needed a fix. He hadn't used since the night before, and withdrawals would be starting very soon if he didn't get more in his system. He lit a cigarette and tried to calm himself down. He told himself it was no different than the girls he'd fooled around with in high school, except there was an exchange of money... and they were probably all going to be guys. His phone went off and it was a text from Meg. _'Rm 19'_

He sighed and rose to his feet, pocketing his phone and grabbing his bag. He had to get to the motel and get that hit Meg promised him as soon as possible.

* * *

Cas looked over to Rich, noticing his eyes were closing and his head was falling forward as he attempted to watch the television. Cas lifted his arms above his head, stretching and yawning. "Want to call it a night? It's two am."

Rich turned to him and blinked, then nodded. "Yeah," he mumbled. "I'm falling asleep."

Cas stood up and Rich kicked off his shoes, swinging his legs up onto the couch. "Do you have an extra blanket?" he asked sleepily.

"You don't have to sleep out here," Cas said casually.

Rich tilted his head up a bit to look at Cas, suddenly seeming more awake. "I think I should, Cas."

"I..." Cas looked down at the floor. "I just didn't remember anything last time, so I kind of panicked." He brought his eyes up to look at Rich. "I'm sorry."

"Y- you don't have to be sorry, Cas," Rich said quickly. "It's just... friends don't usually sleep in the same bed."

Cas frowned. "I... I didn't realize it was that big of a deal." He paused. "It's not in France, and I have also seen many American movies where girls share the same bed. Is it because we're male?" He paused. "Dean and I did the same thing, before we were together." He thought back to the many times he'd woken up entangled in Dean's arms, only to squirm out of them before Dean woke up and inevitably freaked out. He'd hated doing it- he hated sliding over to his side of the bed in the middle of the night, cold and alone- but he hadn't wanted to risk Dean not wanting to share the bed anymore when he slept over because he was embarrassed.

Rich was quiet as Cas spoke, studying his face. He saw Cas staring ahead with that pensive look, brows furrowed as if he was concentrating on something difficult. "Okay," he sighed, sitting up. "I'm coming."

* * *

Dean had used to forget a lot of things, but trying to forget he'd sucked dick for money was a new low. He vigorously brushed his teeth, avoiding the mirror and the shame bubbling in his stomach, and then quickly cooked up a shot.

_Ohhh, wouldn't daddy be proud?_

He positioned the needle between two track marks, momentarily feeling guilt before it was interrupted by a quick second of nausea, then washed away with bliss. When he re-entered the motel room, Meg was staring at him with her eyebrows knitted together, but he couldn't read her expression in the brief second he glanced in her direction.

"It wasn't that bad..." she said softly. "Right?" Dean shrugged, lighting a cigarette and sitting down on the bed, facing the wall. "It gets easier," she continued.

Dean leaned back on the mattress, turning onto his side and staring at the wall. "Sure."

She chewed her lip. "I don't mean to be a bitch, but... I only have the room until eleven, and it's ten, so..."

"Okay." He closed his eyes. "I jus' wanna lay here," he murmured, his eyelids drooping. "For a minute... Please."

"Sure."

He must've overdone it a bit, because he woke up to her shaking his shoulder rather roughly. "W... wha?" he grumbled, jerking his shoulder away.

" _Finally_ ," she groaned. "You were fucking knocked out." She paused. "We gotta go."

"Yeah," he said, running a hand over his face. "Okay." He pushed himself off the mattress, arms shaking a bit, and picked up his bag.

"Are you eating, Dean? You're super thin," she said, raising an eyebrow. She tried to act like she was just making an observation, but there was concern in her voice.

He shrugged. "Kinda."

She crossed her arms and huffed a sigh. "You need to take care of yourself, Dean. Other things people consider necessities might not be to us, but it's just common sense that if you don't eat, you die."

He scoffed and looked away, shaking his head a bit. "Do you really think I give a shit?" he said, mocking the response he'd gotten from her the day they'd met, when he'd told her he'd already used the needle she was asking for.

She narrowed her eyes. "Well fuck you, then." She stood up and grabbed her purse. "Give me your phone," she said firmly, extending her hand out, palm up.

"Why?"

"Just trust me," she sighed. He unplugged it from the wall and handed it over, and she began tapping the screen.

"What are you doing?"

"Downloading you an app to call and text from a separate number," she replied distractedly, still messing with the screen. "You don't want these people having your real number."

"Oh... right," he mumbled. How could he forget why he was there? He'd gotten his hit from Meg (she'd actually been generous and given him two- one after his shower, before the client arrived, and one after), and he had sixty dollars in his pocket, but that was it. It would be gone before the day was through, and unless he went out and earned more, he would be right back to square one. "So... how do I, uh..."

"Attract customers?" She looked up and smirked, handing him back his phone. "I'm going to give that number to some people I know would like you. It'll spread from there, trust me."

Dean swallowed down the lump in his throat, shoving the phone into his jacket pocket and following her out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs used:
> 
> [Eric Clapton - Cocaine (1977)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pJyQpAiMXkg)


	66. Chapter 66

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: graphic depiction of overdose (dont worry it's not Dean)

_"Merci pour ton aide avec le dîner, Castiel. Peux-tu demander à ton frère s'il a faim?"_

_Cas nodded and left the kitchen, slowly climbing the stairs. He suddenly felt his stomach sinking, as if something bad was about to happen. He ignored it, and once he reached the landing, he stopped in front of his brother's door. It was closed, but that was nothing new._

_He raised his fist to knock on the door. "Mike, le dîner est prêt," he called through the door. There was no response, so he repeated himself louder. After a few seconds, he turned the knob and pushed the door open. Michael was lying on the bed with his back to the door. Cas crossed the room, reaching his arm out to touch his shoulder. He pressed two fingers and gave him a gentle nudge. "Mike, Maman a dit-"_

_He pulled his hand back when he realized Michael was limp. "...Mike?" He reached out again, this time grabbing him by the shoulder and turning him towards him. Mike's eyes were closed, his lips were blue, and there was a decent amount of foamy spit running down his chin and neck. When Cas moved him, he made a faint gurgling noise._

_Cas shook his shoulder. "Mike?" he choked out, his voice cracking as his stomach sank to the floor. There was still no response from Michael; no indication that he'd even heard him. Cas slowly backed away, and tried to call out to their mother, but his voice came out small and hoarse. He swallowed and tried again, and this time his voice shook the house._

"MA!"

_As if she knew, maybe from the panic and urgency in her youngest son's voice, or maybe from the fact that her oldest had overdosed twice already, she flew up the stairs, rushing past Cas and grabbing her son. "Michael!" she yelled, shaking him a bit and slapping him on the cheek. Cas stood behind her, watching the scene unfold in horror. He knew this had happened before, but he'd never actually seen it._

_She turned around and yelled at him to stop standing there and call 911. He fumbled for a split second before locating his cell phone and dialing the three numbers._

_"911, what's your emergency?"_

_Cas stared slack-jawed as his mother pressed her knuckles into Michael's collarbone, slapped his face, pinched him- anything to wake him up and get him breathing again- all while screaming his name, screaming at him in French as tears ran down her face._

_"911, what is your emergency?" the dispatcher repeated._

_He'd almost forgotten he was supposed to be speaking. "My brother," he finally answered in English. "He's overdosing."_

"Cas? ...Cas!"

Cas shot up in bed, his heart pounding in his chest and his skin sticky with sweat. He turned to his left and Rich was propped up on his elbow, one hand resting on Cas' arm.

"Are you okay?" Rich asked softly.

Cas swallowed and looked down, bringing his hand up to rub his face and exhaling a shaky sigh. "Yeah," he breathed. "Just had a nightmare."

Rich was quiet, studying him for a moment, before asking, "Do you wanna talk about it?"

Cas laid back on the pillow with a groan. "No... Thanks though." Rich laid back as well. Cas rolled over and faced away from him. "Thank you for waking me up," he mumbled into the pillow.

"No worries."

Cas laid awake for a few minutes until he heard Rich begin to lightly snore. He slipped out of bed and padded into the living room, where he sunk down on the couch and lit a cigarette. Leaning his head back into the cushion, he allowed himself a moment to wallow in self-pity. This was why he hated thinking about his brother. Although he _knew_ it wasn't really his fault, that it would've happened again and again anyway, he still could never stop himself from wondering if his brother would still be alive if he'd called 911 sooner, if he'd answered the dispatcher right away. It may have only added up to a minute or two, but that time could have meant everything.

He sighed and took out his phone, scrolling through Facebook to distract himself. Only when he saw that his newsfeed was filled with nothing but hearts and the colors pink and red did he realize that it was Valentine's Day. He rolled his eyes and huffed another sigh, tossing the phone next to him on the couch. He felt a wet nose on his hand and looked down to see Cujo staring up at him. Cas patted the couch and he jumped up and laid down, nestling his head next to Cas' thigh. Cas sunk back into the couch and closed his eyes, allowing his mind to go back to last year.

Dean pulled the Impala around the corner of the trail and they lurched to a halt. He turned to Cas.

"Did you like the movie?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, kinda sappy though."

Cas smiled. Of course Dean would say that about a romance movie. "I like sappy."

Dean turned to him and grinned. "I know you do, handsome." Cas remembered how good he looked. He wasn't using, so he looked healthy and happy, and his green eyes were bright. He was wearing his leather jacket, sitting in the front seat with one hand on the steering wheel, the other arm dangling out the window with a cigarette. He tossed it to the ground and slid over so his hips bumped Cas', snaking his arm around his shoulder. Dean leaned forward and they kissed, soft and slow, before Dean broke away and lowered his face into the crook of Cas' neck. Cas could hear him inhale, and then he murmured against his skin, "Wanna move this to the back seat?"

Cas nodded. "Yeah."

They scrambled over the front seat to the back and hastily ripped off their jackets, tossing them into the front seat. Dean sat up on his knees and undid his pants, sliding them down to his knees as Cas laid back and took his off completely, shoving them to the floor. Dean leaned forward and pressed his lips to Cas' neck as he undid the buttons of his shirt. As they came open, he trailed his kisses lower, until his shirt was completely open and he was down to his waist.

Cas squirmed a bit beneath him, sighing towards the roof of the car. Dean looked up and brought his fingers to Cas' mouth. As soon as Cas felt his fingers on his lower lip he opened his mouth, and Dean slid them in. He pressed them to Cas' tongue as he sucked on them for a moment, and when he pulled them out, they were practically dripping.

Dean stifled down a groan as he quickly brought his hand down between Cas' legs, which spread for him instantly. He trailed his fingers down between Cas before pressing one to the tight ring of muscle. Cas let out a little whimper and pressed back against him, and Dean pushed his finger in, wasting no time in moving it around. Cas exhaled a long sigh, twitching his hips a bit as his cock swelled. Dean took it in his other hand, stroking softly as he pushed a second finger in.

Cas opened his eyes, but they weren't focused as he stared up at the ceiling, lips parted. As they fluttered closed again, Dean slid the third finger in, twisting his wrist as he moved them to work Cas open.

"Dean," Cas whined, lifting his head and opening his eyes. "Come on."

Dean didn't need to be told twice. He quickly pulled his fingers out and grabbed his dick, leaning back and slowly spitting down onto it in his hand. He spread it down the length before lining himself up with Cas. "Ready?"

Cas nodded and Dean pushed himself up against him, pressing slowly, until the head cleared the ring of muscle. He paused, letting out a heavy sigh and lowering himself down onto his elbows above Cas, giving him time to adjust. After a moment, he began to slowly push in further, until he bottomed out. He lifted his head to kiss Cas. "Fuck," he groaned into his mouth. "You feel so fucking good Cas."

Cas only rolled his hips in response, causing a wavering moan to work its way up from Dean's throat. He pulled back and thrust in again, and Cas inhaled sharply. Dean slowly worked up to a rhythm, thrusting into Cas as he laid on top of him, his forearms framing Cas' face. He used one hand to smooth Cas' sweaty hair back from his forehead. "You're so fuckin pretty like this, Cas, I swear," he huffed, staring into his bright blue eyes. He leaned down and crushed their lips together, pushing his tongue into his mouth, all the while still keeping a perfect rhythm.

Dean pulled back and wrapped his hands around Cas' ass, lifting his hips a bit to give himself better access. The change in angle caused him to graze Cas' prostate, and Cas arched his back, swearing in French.

"Fuck, Cas, it's so hot when you do that," Dean groaned through gritted teeth. He placed Cas' legs around his waist, using one arm to hold one leg and using the other to take hold of Cas' neglected cock, swollen and dripping with precome. He ran his thumb across the slit, spreading it around, before sliding his hand down to the bottom and beginning to tug roughly.

"Fuckkk, Dean... just like that," Cas gasped.

Dean continued, his only change being to thrust a little harder and grip his dick a little tighter until Cas was coming all over his chest, muscles tightening and a lengthy moan rising from his throat. Dean came as well, spilling into Cas as he dug his fingernails into his hips. As he softened, he pulled out, lying down on Cas and ignoring the mess. They were going right home afterwards, anyway.

They took a minute to let their breathing return to normal before Dean lifted his head to press a kiss to Cas' lips. "Happy Valentine's, Cas."

Cas smiled and leaned up to kiss him again. "Happy Valentine's Day, Dean."

Cas opened his eyes and was greeted with the darkness of the living room. Great, now he was sad _and_ he had a boner.

* * *

Dean considered himself lucky the first night. He'd only gotten two calls. The first guy wanted a blowjob, and the second guy wanted _Dean_ to fuck _him_. He was surprised, but relieved. He knew that very, very soon he would have to let other guys fuck him, and he didn't think he'd ever be ready for anyone but Cas to do that.

In addition to the sixty from the job Meg had gotten him, he'd made another one hundred-fifty for the night. He texted Meg and told her, and she suggested they split a hotel room and "celebrate". Basically, they'd hang out and do drugs, but it was as good a celebration as any to Dean, and it meant he could sleep in a bed for the night.

When he arrived at the motel, he handed over the cash for his half of the room and tossed his bag onto the floor.

"I already showered," Meg said, tucking the money into her purse, "So have at it."

He nodded. "Awesome, because I just went to the laundromat and washed all my stuff." He picked his bag back up and went into the bathroom. He set it on the toilet and turned on the water, peeling off his dirty clothes and dropping them to the floor. He stepped into the shower and stood stock still as he waited for the water to warm, staring down at himself. He still couldn't believe he'd just had his dick buried in some random guy. Now he was here, an hour later, one hundred twenty-five dollars richer for it and no worse for the wear.

Meg had already used the hotel soap, so he reached out of the tub and retrieved the soap Crowley had given him from his bag. The water was finally warm, so he yanked up on the diverter and began lathering up the bar. He scrubbed everywhere, scraping his fingernails along his skin, then shampooed his hair. It was getting pretty long, covering the tops of his ears and the nape of his neck. He felt it looked more like Sam's haircut than his own, although his didn't do that wavy thing at the edges like Sam's did.

He shaved, got dressed in clean clothes, and went back into the room. Meg was lying on the bed, flipping through the channels on the little TV. "So how'd it go?"

He sat down on the opposite side of the bed and began getting his gear together. "It went. The one dude actually wanted me to fuck him, believe it or not," he scoffed.

She laughed. "Common, actually. Mostly closet dudes who just can't ask their girlfriends to put anything in their ass."

Dean raised his eyebrows but didn't say anything. He wondered, if he hadn't met Cas, would that have been him one day? With a girl and finally realizing he wanted to do things that he could never ask for? He pulled his shot up into the needle and located a vein. "How the hell do you know all this?"

She laughed again. "What do you think my boyfriend did?"

"He bi, too?" He bit his lip into his mouth and pressed down on the plunger.

"Nope," she answered. "Not in the slightest. But most people do things they don't want to at work."

He withdrew the needle and set it down on the night stand, scooting back and leaning on the headboard. "You have a very... professional, outlook towards this job... don't you?"

"Yep."

He turned his head to look at her, a drowsy smile slowly spreading across his face. "You realize most people see us as the scum of the earth, right?"

She pursed her lips, closing her eyes as she injected her own shot. "Yet they still hire us."

He chuckled. "Yeah."

She withdrew the needle and laid back on the bed as well. She looked at the alarm clock, and the time read four-fifteen am. "It's Valentine's Day," she said quietly.

Dean looked up at the ceiling. "Is it?"

"Yep."

"I'm sorry 'bout your boyfriend, Meg."

She shrugged. "It happens." She didn't really understand how Dean could leave his boyfriend on purpose. She'd cried all night when her boyfriend was sentenced to a year in jail. "...You gonna call your guy?"

Dean turned to her, taken aback by the question. "What? ...Why?" She didn't answer. Dean looked back up at the ceiling. "No... no need to remind him of me. He's either alone... or he's with someone else. Either way, it'll jus' ruin his day."

* * *

When Cas woke up in the morning, Rich was still asleep, lying on his stomach with one arm hanging off the side of the bed. Cujo was flat on his back between them, legs in the air. He got up and pulled on pajama pants, exiting the room. Cujo followed him to the back door, and Cas stood in the doorway and smoked a cigarette as he did his business.

When they came back in, Rich was emerging from the bedroom, rubbing his eyes. "What time is it?" he mumbled.

Cas walked past him to squint at the cable box. "Nine."

Rich nodded and made his way into the kitchen. "Coffee?"

"Yes, please." Cas followed him and grabbed a box of cereal off the top of the fridge, then opened the fridge to retrieve the gallon of milk. "You can make whatever you want for yourself, but... I don't really feel like cooking."

Rich shrugged. "Cereal's fine, man." He finished preparing their coffee and they sat down at the island.

Half-way through his cereal, Cas cleared his throat. "So, um... it's Valentine's Day. I don't know if you'd like to do something, since we're both single... or whatever."

Rich nodded. "Yeah, sure. Like what?"

Cas shrugged, bringing another spoonful of cereal to his mouth. He chewed and swallowed. "Are there any cool hiking trails around here? Then we can get lunch."

Rich nodded. "I know a few trails that allow dogs, if you want to bring Cujo."

Cas smiled. "That would be great. Poor guy really needs to get out of the house."

.

It was nice. It actually wasn't foggy, so they were able to appreciate the scenery, and it was a comfortable fifty-five degrees. About half-way up the trail, they'd only seen one other person, so Cas let Cujo off the leash. He stayed by them for the most part, and when he did go ahead, he came right back when Cas called him. They smoked the entire time. Afterwards, they found a place to eat that had outdoor seating so Cujo could join them.

Cas stared down at the menu, which had an insert of Valentine's specials. He dropped it onto the table and studied the regular menu, settling on a cheeseburger.

The waitress appeared next to them, pen poised on paper. "What can I get you boys?"

"Cheeseburger with fries, please," Cas said, handing her his menu.

"A BLT... with those potato wedge things instead of fries, please," Rich said, also passing her his menu.

She scribbled down their orders and snapped her gum. "And to drink?"

"Water. With a lemon," Cas answered.

"Coke."

"You got it." She turned on her heel and walked off into the restaurant.

"That was a nice trail," Cas commented.

"Yeah." Rich nodded, elbows on the table, fiddling with his napkin. "Used to go there with my dad a lot. He was big into hiking. We went camping a lot, too."

"I've only been camping once, with Dean and his little brother, Sam." He paused, remembering why it was only once. John hadn't been too happy about Dean keeping Sam out of the house all night. Cas had bought all the camping stuff, and after that, it sat unused in the garage. Dean had spent many nights at Cas' by himself, and Cas honestly wasn't sure why they never went camping again alone.

Rich nodded. "We can go some time. Haven't gone in a while... since he got sick. I'd like to get out there again once it gets a bit warmer."

Cas smiled. "That sounds fun."

The waitress came back with their drinks and a metal bowl of water. "For your pup," she smiled, setting it down next to Cujo.

Cas smiled up at her as Cujo began drinking. "Thank you."

She nodded. "I'll be back in a few with your food."

They ate and talked. A few people stopped and pet Cujo. Cas paid for the meal and left a good tip. As they got into the car, Cas rolled down the back window for Cujo and lit a cigarette.

"Thanks for getting lunch," Rich said as he closed the car door.

"No problem." Cas put the car in reverse and backed out of the parking lot. "When we get back, we should work on those arrangements."

"Yeah," Rich sighed, lighting a cigarette. "Okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: in case you were wondering, Cas was 12 when his brother died
> 
> translations:
> 
> Merci pour ton aide avec le dîner, Castiel. Peux-tu demander à ton frère s'il a faim ?  
> Thank you for helping with dinner, Castiel. Can you ask your brother if he's hungry?
> 
> Le dîner est prêt.  
> Dinner is ready.
> 
> Maman a dit-  
> Mom said-


	67. Chapter 67

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: abuse, flashbacks, (accidental) animal death, hallucinations

Al had approached him on the street. Dean wasn't sure how people could tell, but he'd stopped trying to guess. After Al had paid for and received oral, he made the offer. At first, Dean had laughed at him. He made his own money, and that was the way it was going to stay. He didn't need some pimp thinking he was entitled to half of _his_ earnings. Then Al had started rattling off the perks. Dean would have food, a bed, a shower. Al would line up the customers and buy him all the drugs he wanted. All he had to do was whatever Al told him to do. After all of that, Al would still give him a third of what he earned. Dean had thought about it for a moment, and it seemed like a pretty good deal. He was getting tired of meeting his clients all over the place, anyway (not to mention it was more likely to attract the attention of cops), and it was hard to organize and keep track of times and places while he was doped up.

Dean hated Al, though. He had this permanent sneer and this nasally voice, like nails on a chalkboard, and he got way too much enjoyment out of pushing Dean around. But it was better than being homeless, and he had a steady flow of drugs and money, so he stayed. It's not like he deserved any better anyway.

Al liked to move around, so unfortunately he didn't get to see Meg anymore, although they texted frequently. It had been five weeks since he'd left California, and they were in some seedy bar in Missouri. Dean had used his own money to buy a bottle, and he was nursing it at a booth alone. A man slid into the booth next to him, and Al could tell what he wanted by the way he leaned in and whispered in Dean's ear. He was across the bar and at the booth in seconds, talking prices. Dean just sat there, quickening his drinking pace, staring down at the table. As they talked about him as if he wasn't even there, he felt like an object, and he fucking hated it. At least before Al, he was in control. But Al kept him comfortably numb, so he didn't protest much.

* * *

Cas was woken up by Cujo barking, and he realized someone was knocking. He quickly pulled on some pajama pants and made his way to the front door. When he opened it, Rich was standing there with a bottle. "Hey," he said with a smile, holding the bottle up. "I thought we could day-drink and watch bad television."

Cas grinned. "Yeah, sounds great." He turned his head and Rich noticed another man approaching behind him.

"See ya," the guy said to Cas, brushing past him and Rich and out onto the walkway.

As he walked off, Rich turned back to Cas with a confused look. "Who was that?" he asked as he stepped into the house.

Cas closed the door behind him and tilted his head. "...Matt? Mark? ...I honestly don't remember." He shook his head. "Something with an 'M'."

Rich stared at him blankly for a second before breaking into a grin. "Wait, what? Did you..." He trailed off, noticing Cas was wearing nothing but pajama pants and his fox pendant, and his hair was still messed up from sleep, although it was eleven am. "Did that guy spend the night?"

Cas went into the kitchen and started coffee. "Yes." He lit a cigarette and leaned back on the counter.

"And you didn't even know his name?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and sitting down on the couch. He cracked open the bottle.

"Hey," Cas said, pointing across the room at Rich and feigning offense, "Don't slut-shame me."

"Whoa," Rich said, holding up his hands in mock-surrender and trying not to laugh. "I'm not slut-shaming you, man. I just thought you said you weren't ready for someone else."

"I said I wasn't ready for a _relationship_ ," Cas clarified, turning around and pouring some sugar into his coffee. "Which that was definitely _not_."

"Alright, alright... you got me there." He picked up the remote and started flipping through the channels. "Hey, come check this out. Steve Wilkos is on, he's fucking roasting this guy."

"Coming," Cas said, turning from the counter and making his way towards the couch. The episode was almost over, but another one was starting up immediately after. By the time Steve was reading the results of the second guy's lie detector test, they were both drunk.

Steve read the results, and of course the guy was lying. The guy on stage rolled his eyes and tried to protest. "OHH!" Rich shouted at the TV, "I fucking knew he did it! What a fucking scumbag!" He took another swig from the bottle and passed it to Cas. A commercial started up, and Rich had just lit a cigarette when Cas turned to him.

"Does it bother you?"

Rich looked at him with a confused expression. "Does what bother me?" Cas was quiet, looking at Rich sheepishly and taking another drink. "Oh..." Rich said, pursing his lips. "Why does my opinion matter?"

Cas frowned and held out the bottle. "You're my friend."

Rich took it from him. "Yeah, but... that doesn't mean my opinion on what you do with your sex life matters," he said with a shrug.

Cas sighed, looking up and away. "I do care about you, Rich."

"Alright..." Rich started. "You're confusing me here, Cas. I don't understand what you're trying to say."

Cas sighed. "I just... I don't really know what liking someone is even supposed to feel like. I've never liked anyone but Dean, really, and that started when I was thirteen." He turned to look at Rich. "I have no idea what I'm doing."

"Are you saying... you think you like me?" Rich asked carefully, tightly gripping the neck of the bottle.

Cas smiled sheepishly. "I don't know. ...But I think so."

"Okay..." Rich said, swallowing nervously. "Well, I mean... we could just see where it goes?" he suggested, feeling his heart racing. Was this really happening? It had to be the alcohol; Cas was just drunk.

"I just..." Cas looked down at his hands in his lap. "I just need you to understand that if he ever comes back..."

"I know," Rich said quickly. "I understand that. But... I really do like you, Cas, and I'd like to be closer to you, even if it's only for a little while." He paused. "If that's what you want." The truth was, he was hoping that in time, it could develop into more, but for now, he was okay with whatever Cas was comfortable with. If that meant stopping at friends with benefits, that was fine by him.

Cas looked up and smiled nervously. "Yeah... okay." He paused. "I just don't want you to be hurt if he comes back."

Rich chewed his lip. He understood, but he was pretty sure Dean wasn't coming back. It had already been nearly six weeks. "Just... wait, and think on it sober, though, alright?" Rich suggested, leaning back into the couch and handing Cas the bottle. He didn't want to take advantage of Cas being inebriated and he didn't want Cas to do anything he would regret.

Cas nodded. The commercials ended and the show came back on, so he turned to the TV, taking another swig and passing the bottle back to Rich.

* * *

Al slammed the hotel door behind him, tossing his keys onto the table and walking towards the bed. He dropped a styrofoam container onto the foot of the mattress. "Here."

Dean leaned forward and picked up the container, popping it open. "Thanks." Al didn't respond, instead going into the bathroom and closing the door behind him. The burger was kind of cold and the fries were soggy, but Dean didn't care. Food was food, and it was better than the food he'd eaten when he lived on the street. Nothing would ever compare to Cas' burgers though. It had been six weeks since he'd last seen Cas, and he still couldn't stop thinking about him. He hoped he was happy. He'd given up everything for it, but he really hoped he was.

He finished his food and stood up, walking into the kitchenette and tossing the empty container into the trash. As he hopped back onto the bed, Al emerged from the bathroom. "Get undressed." Dean groaned. "Don't give me lip, just do it."

Dean pulled his tee shirt off over his head and tossed it to the floor. He fumbled with his belt buckle for a moment. A few weeks ago, he'd had to make a new hole in his belt with his knife, but now that he wasn't walking everywhere and Al was feeding him decently, he'd gained a few pounds back. He hoped that soon he could use the normal hole again. He tossed his jeans to the floor and Al was on top of him in an instant.

Dean involuntarily stiffened. He knew he should be used to this by now, but Al disgusted him. Al reached up and grabbed his chin, forcing him to turn and look at him. "Relax-"

As their eyes met, Dean's throat tightened and he jerked away, scrambling to scoot up on the bed. Al's eyes were completely black. Dean closed his eyes and lowered his head. "Y- your-"

"M- m- my what?" Al spat, mocking him. "The fuck is your problem?" He crawled forward again, and when Dean didn't move or look up, he slapped him across the face- hard. "Hello!" he yelled. "Is anybody home?"

Dean slowly lifted his gaze, and Al's eyes had returned to normal. "Sorry," he said quickly, his cheek stinging. He should've known it was just a hallucination. They'd been becoming more common and disturbing lately, and he wasn't sure if they were getting worse, or just finally forcing their way through the drug-induced haze he kept himself in.

"You're always sorry," Al muttered, tracing his fingers down Dean's neck. "Just stop being a fuckin' idiot and you wouldn't have to be _sorry_."

* * *

Another week, and they were on their way to another town. Seven weeks since he'd left, and he missed Cas more and more each day. He missed running his fingers through his soft hair, making him laugh, cooking together. He missed their house and Cujo and driving together in the Impala. He stared out at the road through the windshield, feeling drowsy, and suddenly a fox darted out in front of the headlights. Al tapped the breaks, and Dean tensed and inhaled sharply, but Al didn't make a real effort to stop, and there was a loud thud, followed by a crunching noise.

Suddenly the sound of screeching tires filled the air and Dean was scrambling out of the Impala, hurrying out onto the road. He and Cas walked around so they were facing the car, looking down at the fox. It was still breathing, but there was a large laceration on it's abdomen, and it was bleeding profusely. Blood dripped from it's nose, and it wheezed in a fruitless attempt to get air into it's lungs.

Cas was staring down at it, brows furrowed and a hand clasped over his mouth. The fox opened it's mouth and took another ragged breath. Cas turned to Dean, burying his head into his shoulder.

"Fuck, Cas, I tried to stop-" Dean started, his voice cracking as he put his arm around Cas' shoulder.

"I know," Cas mumbled into Dean's jacket. "It's not your fault." He lifted his head again, and the fox took it's last breath. It's muscles continued twitching for a few minutes until it finally stilled.

"We should move it out of the road," Dean suggested softly, letting his arm fall from Cas' shoulder as he took a step forward. Cas nodded, but didn't move, just staring down at it. Dean walked up to it and bent down, grabbing both back paws and slowly dragging it into the grass, leaving a trail of blood across the right lane. Although he'd touched clean fur, he wiped his hands on his pants for good measure. They climbed back into the car, and as Dean slammed the car door, he sighed again. "Fuck," he mumbled.

"Yeah," Cas agreed softly, picking up one of the bagged newspapers from the dashboard and fiddling with the plastic.

"Hey, answer me when I'm talking to you."

Dean blinked slowly, unsure of where he was. "Where...?" He turned his head to see Al looking at him suspiciously, and suddenly he remembered. "Did we just hit a fox?"

Al grinned proudly. "Yeah."

 _Oh... so it was a flashback._ Dean frowned at him. "Did you stop and make sure it's dead?"

"No... who cares?" He paused, noticing Dean was upset. "Fuck, you're such a pussy," he muttered, turning back to the road and shaking his head. "It's just a dumb animal."

Dean didn't respond. _It's just a dumb animal._ He lit a cigarette and rolled the window down a bit, blowing the smoke out the window. Al was probably the worst person he'd ever met besides John, but there was no way he was going back to living on the street. Plus, he had no idea where they were or where they were going. He wasn't trying to make new connections, find new safe places to sleep, etc. Staying with Al was just... easier, and it's not like he wasn't used to physical and verbal abuse, anyway. Nothing Al could do could top what John had done- or so he thought.

* * *

The next night, it was nearly midnight when Al informed him three guys were coming by.

"Three?" Dean asked in disbelief. Two he could handle- he'd done it before- but three?

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

"Umm..." _Just say no. Just shut up and do it. The deal was to do whatever he said, and you know what happens when you don't._ He sighed and shook his head. "Yeah."

"And why is that?" Al growled, moving closer to the bed.

"Because," Dean started. He fell silent, unsure of what to say. He couldn't handle it? That probably wasn't true. He didn't want to? That wasn't what Al wanted to hear. He had to think of something. Maybe something gross could get him off the hook. "I, uh... I've got the runs. I think from that diner we-"

Al reached forward and grabbed him by the front of his jacket, bringing him to his face. "What kind of idiot do you take me for? You haven't been in that bathroom in three hours." Dean opened his mouth but nothing came out. What was he supposed to say? "Have you forgotten our deal?" Al let go of his jacket and pulled his arm back, backhanding Dean across the face. "You do what I say."

Dean glared at him, his face burning. "You know what? Fuck you. I don't have to take this shit." He started to push himself up.

Al barked a laugh. "And where do you think you're going?" He surged forward, forcing Dean backwards on the bed and straddling him. He grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head back. "Do you want to know what happened to the last worthless junkie who thought he could walk away from me?" he hissed.

Dean pulled his head forward to glare at Al, although he had to fight against his grip on his hair. "You're a fucking piece of shit, Al, you know that?"

Al glared at him for a moment before letting go of his hair, reeling his fist back, and punching him square in the face. "Don't ever fucking talk to me like that," he shouted. "You're nothing but street trash." He punched him again. "Don't you ever _for a fucking second_ think you're better than me. You're not, not by a long shot." Dean kept his eyes closed, facing away from him. "And if you leave," he continued, lowering himself so he was talking directly into Dean's ear, "I will find you... and I will kill you." When Dean didn't respond, he stared at him for a minute before backing away and fishing around in his pocket. He tossed a baggie of powder onto the bed. "Here. Now do your thing and shut the fuck up. They'll be here in fifteen minutes."

.

As soon as the guys left, Dean hastily got re-dressed and made his way for the door. Al's head snapped up. "Where are you going?"

Dean stopped, hand on the door handle. "Air. I'll be right outside the door." He opened it and slipped out, rolling his eyes. Al was so fucking controlling. He leaned against the building and lit a cigarette. He could smoke inside, but he needed a break from the hotel room. While he was glad he had a place to stay these last three weeks, it was quite the adjustment from being outdoors 24/7 for a month, and the motel room smelled like sweat and sex. He needed fresh air. He hung his head and closed his eyes, trying to forget the past hour and a half. He had a headache and his cheek was sore. He hadn't even showered yet. He was still sticky with sweat and come and his ass hurt.

He had just finished his cigarette and lit another one when he heard it. He immediately stiffened, staring forward, convinced it was just a hallucination. It had to be... then he heard it again.

"Hello, Dean."

His head snapped up and there he was, his tie and the very bottom of his trench coat rustling in the breeze. "C... Cas?" he whispered.

Cas smiled.

"Cas," he repeated, nearly choking on the word. "What are you-" He stopped himself, glancing behind him at the window to the hotel room. The blinds were closed, but Al might be able to hear them. He turned back to Cas and lowered his voice. "How did you find me?" _He_ didn't even know where he was.

"I tracked your cell phone."

Dean stared at him blankly for a moment before opening his mouth again. "I'm so happy to see you, you..." He scoffed. "You have no idea, but..." He swallowed, his eyes flicking back towards the hotel room. "We need to go. _Now_."

"Why?" Cas asked, tilting his head. "I thought this is what you wanted."

"W- what?" Dean whispered. "Then... why are you here?"

The corner of Cas' lip curled into a smile. "I wanted to see what you left me for."

Dean lowered his gaze to the pavement. "Oh." His eyes began to sting. "I should've known you wouldn't want me back." The joy he'd felt at seeing Cas suddenly dissipated, replaced by embarrassment and shame. He imagined how disgusting he must look- thin and pale, face bruised, standing around outside some seedy motel at two am. He probably had some come in his hair.

"You were absolutely right in leaving," Cas said, still smiling. "I didn't realize how much happier I could be without you holding me back."

Dean lifted his head and narrowed his eyes. "Did you really come all this way just to fucking tell me that?" he asked angrily. "Why would you-"

The hotel door opened and Dean spun around to see Al poking his head out and glaring at him. "Who the fuck are you talking to?"

Dean turned his head and he realized he was alone. "I..." He stared at the spot next to him for a moment. It was just another hallucination. He sighed, closing his eyes and willing his heart to stop pounding against his rib cage. "No one," he answered quietly.

"Get the hell inside," Al snapped. "Before someone else catches your fuckin' crazy."

Dean put his head down and followed Al inside. He went into the bathroom and started the water for a shower, slowly stripping out of his clothes. He should've known better. The days of Cas swooping in and saving him were over. He was never going to see Cas again, and he had to accept that.


	68. Chapter 68

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter is extremely dark. Very fucked up. I'm actually kind of hesitant to post it, but everything has been leading up to this...
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: abuse, rape, attempted murder
> 
> if you think this chapter might be triggering, and you would like to skip it, you can PM me here, or email me at crazyassCas@gmail.com, and I will give you a brief summary. you're also more than welcome to email me to discuss the story or any of my other works at any time! i love hearing from you guys.
> 
>  
> 
> please read the chapter notes at the end as well!

Al re-entered the motel room without a word, sitting down on the bed next to Dean and taking his shoes off.

"Where were you?" Dean asked casually, although he didn't really care. Al had been gone for a few hours, and he was just attempting to make conversation. He got lonely having no one to talk to, even though he would never admit it.

"Don't worry about it," he said curtly. He turned to look at Dean, who was staring at the motel room TV. "Sorry," he grumbled, but it was more of an obligation than an actual admittance of regret.

Dean glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "For what?"

Al shrugged. "Yesterday." He paused, his gaze lingering over Dean's black eye. "You just... you piss me off so bad sometimes."

Dean scoffed, turning back to the television. Just like Al to blame _him_. Although, everyone always did, so he shouldn't be surprised. "Stow the crap," he muttered. "We both know you're not sorry."

Al frowned, but anger was already bubbling up inside of him. "See, this is what I'm talking about," he snapped, tossing his shoes towards the wall. "Why can't you just accept the fucking apology?"

"Because I've heard it already, Al," Dean said, rolling his eyes. "I don't care." He huffed a sigh. "And you're not the only one with a fucked up childhood, by the way. So spare me the sob story." He was tired of the manipulative bullshit. Al was abusive, point blank. He didn't need to hear _why_ , or have Al pretend he felt bad about it. He didn't care.

"Fine, fuck you," he said angrily. "I'm not sorry."

"I know you're not," Dean muttered, turning up the volume on the TV.

"Give me that," Al snapped, snatching the remote from Dean. He stared at him, waiting for a reaction, but Dean gave him none. He just continued staring at the TV, and that only served to anger Al more. "Fucking look at me," he yelled.

Dean turned to him. "What do you want?" he asked exasperatedly. "It's five in the morning. Let me go to sleep."

"Fine... After you do your job."

Dean narrowed his eyes at him. "Seriously Al? You worked me like a fucking dog tonight. Just leave me alone." He laid back and rolled over, curling in on himself.

Al grabbed his shoulder, pulling him to face him again. "Yeah, because leaving you alone worked so well for you, right?" he said condescendingly, a smirk plastered across his face. "You were gonna die on those streets."

"Yeah, well, you should've let me," Dean spat, staring into his eyes. "Would've been better than being with you."

Al feigned hurt. "You don't mean that."

Dean didn't break eye contact as a smile slowly spread across his face. "Yes, I do."

Al returned his smile with a sinister one. "Well that's too bad," he said softly. He reached a hand up, and Dean flinched a little, never sure if Al's hand would be gentle or violent. Al brushed a bit of Dean's hair behind his ear, although it was too short to stay tucked. "Because you _are_ alive, and you're here." He lowered his voice. "And you're not going anywhere."

Dean closed his eyes and turned his head away, but Al roughly grabbed his face and turned him back. When he opened his eyes, Al was staring into them. "Get undressed."

"This wasn't part of the deal," Dean said quietly.

Al smiled again. "You keep saying that... but it doesn't really matter, does it?"

Dean was quiet for a few seconds before mumbling, "I guess not."

"Tell me, Dean, where would you go? Who would want you? You're nothing but a used up drug addict. You're lucky _I_ even want you."

Dean lowered his eyes. "Okay... I get it."

Al laughed. "I'm not done." He paused, looking down at Dean with disdain. "You ruin everything you touch. Why else would you be all alone? No one cares about you. No one wants to help you. I'm all you've got. You should know this by now."

"Okay," Dean repeated, still looking down.

"So stop fighting me and just do as I say. Why do you always have to make things harder on yourself?" Dean didn't respond, and Al, still holding Dean's chin, gave his head a little shake. "Answer me."

Dean raised his eyes. "I don't know," he answered honestly. It was a good question, really, but it was one that he didn't have an answer to.

.

Finally, around six, Al fell asleep. Dean had laid awake the whole time, waiting. He slowly rose out of bed, slipping into his clothes and buckling his belt as slowly and quietly as possible. He picked up his bag and carefully made his way towards the door. He heard Al roll over and mumble something in his sleep, and he froze, his heart pounding in his ears. When he was sure Al was still asleep, he continued across the room. He reached out for the door handle, his hand shaking a bit. _If Al wakes up..._ He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, slowly pulling down on the handle and pulling the door open a crack. He slipped out, carefully closing it behind him and hurrying off down the sidewalk into the cool March dawn.

Maybe Al was right. Maybe he _was_ just a used up junkie, and no one wanted to help him (and the one person who did, didn't deserve that burden). Maybe he _would_ die on the streets, but anything was better than staying with Al. He'd spent his entire life being abused by John, and maybe he could never stand up to _him_ , but he wasn't going to do it again with Al. Three weeks was enough.

He had no clue where he was, but he figured if he walked long enough, he'd figure it out. Then he realized he could use his phone. He pulled it out and looked around. Down the road, he could see the sign of the motel he'd just left. It read King's Way Inn. He quickly typed it into Google, and felt a bit of panic as he discovered he was in Kansas. Fort Scott to be exact. He was less than two hours away from Lawrence, and he didn't want to risk running into anyone he knew. He had about four hundred dollars, and he would spend it all, if need be, to get out of town and away from Al as soon as possible.

He'd probably walked for about two hours, and the sun was steadily rising higher in the sky. He was walking along the side of a wooded main road when he heard an engine revving a few hundred yards behind him. He crossed his arms tighter, lowered his head, and picked up his pace, although he was exhausted. With all the roads he could have taken, what was the chance Al would be able to find him? He probably wasn't even awake yet.

The engine drew closer and he heard the familiar dragging of Al's shitty breaks. His stomach sank, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Al's car slowing to a crawl. Al leaned towards the open passenger side window. "What do you think you're doing?"

Dean wanted to respond, say something snarky to fool himself into thinking he was in control, but he actually had no idea what he was doing, and he was _scared_ , so he drew a blank. He didn't respond, only kept walking.

"Get in the car." Dean still didn't acknowledge him, and it only made Al angrier. "Don't fucking ignore me."

"Leave me the fuck alone," Dean finally snapped.

"Okay," Al said casually, turning his head back toward the road. "Guess I'll just go pay your family a visit."

Dean stopped dead in his tracks. "What?"

Al slammed on the breaks and the car lurched to a halt. He smirked at Dean. "57 Oak Drive?" He paused, reveling in the look of despair on Dean's face. "How much do you want to bet I'll get there before you do?"

Dean's stomach dropped to the floor. If it was his Lawrence address, he wouldn't care if Al went after his father. But his California address? He felt the breath leave his lungs. _Cas_. "How... how did you find that out?" he pushed out.

Al grinned proudly. "I checked your wallet one day while you were passed out." He paused. "So if you want to keep your bullshit away from them as much as I think you do, you'll get in this car."

Dean stared at the ground for a moment before taking a step towards the vehicle and reaching for the door handle.

"Atta boy," Al sneered, straightening up in his seat.

Dean plopped down into the seat in defeat, settling his bag between his legs and gently closing the door behind him. "If I stay with you..." he started quietly, staring down at the floor. "You have to promise me you'll never go there." He could never forgive himself if Al hurt Cas.

Al considered this for a moment. "Fine." He reached out and turned the radio on, pressing down on the gas and driving off.

_Wish I didn't know now what I didn't know then  
Against the wind, we were runnin' against the wind_   
_We were young and strong, we were runnin' against the wind_

_And the years rolled slowly past, and I found myself alone_   
_Surrounded by strangers I thought were my friends_   
_I found myself further and further from my home_   
_And I guess I lost my way, t_ _here were oh so many roads_   
_I was living to run and running to live_   
_Never worried about paying or even how much I owed_   
_Moving eight miles a minute for months at a time_   
_Breaking all of the rules that would bend_   
_I began to find myself searchin', searchin' for shelter again and again  
Against the wind, a_ _little something against the wind_   
_I found myself seeking shelter against the wind_

They'd only been driving for about ten minutes when Al hit the brakes and pulled onto a small dirt pull-off. The car bounced and heaved over potholes and rocks in the road.

"Where are we going?" Dean asked, his voice small. He knew something wasn't right.

Al laughed and shook his head a bit. "Did you really think you could pull some shit like that and there wouldn't be consequences?"

Dean looked away and swallowed down the lump in his throat. He should've known. He suddenly remembered what Al had said to him in the motel two weeks ago- _If you leave, I'll kill you._ He closed his eyes, trying to convince himself that Al wouldn't go that far. Dean made him a good amount of money for minimal work on Al's part. It would be stupid to kill him, especially after he just dangled blackmail over Dean's head guaranteeing he would never try to leave again.

Al swung the door open and exited the car. "Let's go."

Dean opened his own door and slowly got out, following Al around to the trunk. He popped it open, and Dean's eyes widened. "Is that- is that my guitar?"

Al chuckled and looked up at Dean, looking unnervingly proud of himself. "Yep. How else was I supposed to get you desperate enough to accept my offer?"

Dean opened and closed his mouth for a moment, trying to piece together what Al was saying. "I- I don't..."

Al rolled his eyes. "It's a wonder you made it this long on your own," he muttered. "You were content with the money you were making. I watched you for a while. I saw you hanging out with that whore, but even she couldn't seem to convince you."

Dean squinted at him. He remembered now, shooting up around the corner from the park the day before his guitar was stolen. A man Dean now realized was Al approaching him for sex, and Dean cursing him out. "You planned this," he said finally.

"Yep." He still looked proud of himself. "You were just too pretty, and keeping that to yourself was such a waste. I saw so much potential in you. ...And you're good at it, you really are." He looked back into the trunk, smiling sadly and reaching into it to rummage beneath a pile of clothing. "But you still fight me every step of the way. Apparently I haven't quite broken your spirit yet." He withdrew his hand, and he was gripping a baseball bat. Before Dean could even react, he swung his arm upwards, connecting the bat with the side of Dean's head. Everything went black and Dean collapsed to the ground.

* * *

Rich was woken by something wet and cold on his fingers. He pulled his hand up and into the blanket, groaning. Then the sensation was on his face, and he opened his eyes to see Cujo nudging him and whining. He averted his gaze to the alarm clock. It was six am, and he could feel the weight of Cas still in bed next to him. He stretched a bit, yawning into the pillow, before getting up and taking the dog out into the back yard.

He didn't stay with Cas every night. He didn't even see him every day. On the days he worked later in the day, he would usually just go home afterwards. Although he never wanted to leave Cas', he felt like that would pretty much be living together, and that would be too much like a relationship. He knew Cas wasn't ready for that. On the nights they hung out, if Cas asked him to stay, he stayed. Sometimes he would say he was heading home and if Cas didn't protest, he'd go home to his empty house and sleep alone. He hated it, but he'd promised himself that he wouldn't push Cas.

When Cujo came back in, he closed the door and started coffee. He went back into the bedroom and laid back down next to Cas, placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing lightly. Cas stirred. "Morning."

Cas rolled over onto his back and slowly opened his eyes. He smiled sleepily up at Rich. "Good morning."

Rich leaned forward and they kissed for a moment before Rich pulled back. "You've gotta change out your lip ring," he said. "It's way too long now."

Cas stuck his tongue out to touch the bar. "Yes, I suppose it's done swelling," he said sleepily. "It's been nearly eight weeks."

Rich nodded. "They can probably fit you in today if you call." He leaned back as Cas sat up and peered at the alarm clock.

Cas sighed, not wanting to get out of bed. "I have to let Cujo out."

"I already did."

Cas smiled. "Thank you."

Rich smiled back. "No problem."

They stared at each other for a brief moment until Cas leaned forward, pressing their lips together. He moved and lifted one leg so that he was on top of Rich, straddling his thighs. He splayed his fingers out across Rich's chest, rolling his hips down onto him.

Rich brought his hands up to place them on Cas' waist, moaning into his mouth. He still couldn't believe that for the past two and a half weeks, he'd been afforded the privilege of touching Cas like this. Being intimate with Cas was better than he ever imagined it could be.

* * *

Dean came to a few minutes later, and Al had dragged him a few yards into the woods. He was propped up against a tree trunk, and Al was crouching down in front of him, grinning wickedly. "Mornin', sunshine."

Dean blinked and groaned, raising his hand to tenderly press his fingers to his aching temple. He pulled them back to look at them, and they were coated in fresh blood. He dropped his hand and let his head fall back against the tree.

Al grabbed him by the jacket, yanking him forward and landing a punch across Dean's cheek. "Stay with me. I need you conscious as long as possible."

"Why?" Dean ground out.

"Because otherwise it's no fun," he smiled, standing up and walking a few feet away. Dean groaned, turning his head and closing his eyes. Al turned and walked back to him again. "When will you learn to just do as I say? This relationship would go much more smoothly."

"This isn't a relationship," Dean grunted.

Al leaned down and grabbed Dean by the hair, punching him again, this time in the mouth. "What I say goes." He paused, watching a bit of blood drip from the corner of Dean's mouth. "It may not be _that_ kind of relationship," he continued, releasing his grip on his hair, "because, frankly, who would ever love you? But it is a relationship nonetheless."

Dean looked up at him, meeting his eyes. "Are... are you going to kill me?" he choked out, a bit of fresh blood trickling down his chin.

A deep laugh rose up from Al's chest. "No. You make me good money, Dean." He paused, straightening up. "But I do have to show you who's in charge."

Dean rolled his head along the bark of the tree, blearily looking around. There was nowhere for him to run. Even if he wasn't too weak to make it to the road, he hadn't seen another car on the road besides Al's for twenty minutes. The chances of him flagging someone down were slim to none. Then he remembered he couldn't leave anyway, unless he wanted to put Cas in danger. He just had to take his beating.

Al grabbed him by the shoulder of his jacket, pushing him to the ground. He wound his leg back and kicked Dean in the stomach. Dean curled in on himself, coughing up a bit of blood as tears finally forced their way from his eyes. Al grabbed his hair again, yanking his head up and slamming it back down again. "Stop crying! Take your punishment like a man."

Dean couldn't help but be reminded of his father. A grin slowly spread across his face, revealing blood-soaked teeth. Maybe this was just his place in life- to be a punching bag for those higher up on the food chain.

"You think this is funny?" Al shouted, his face reddening in anger. He dropped to his knees over Dean, reeling his fist back and bringing it down on Dean multiple times. When he finally stopped, chest heaving with adrenaline, he stared into Dean's eyes. "Remember the last faggot junkie I mentioned? You wanna know what I did when he tried to leave?"

Dean's eyes widened in realization as much as they could, given he was having trouble staying conscious. "You... you killed him," he wheezed. Al's expression shifted then. He placed his hands on Dean's throat, pressing his thumbs into his windpipe. Dean brought his hands up to grab Al's wrists, trying to pry them from his throat, but it was pointless. He was weaker than he'd ever been in his life, and Al knew it. "Al-"

"Enough," he shouted. He met Dean's eyes. "Stop talking now. I said too much."

"I won't... say... anything," Dean gasped.

Al grinned, tightening his grip as Dean's vision blurred, darkening around the edges. "I've heard that before. It's not a chance I'm willing to take."

Dean dug his nails into Al's wrists, but he only pressed harder on his windpipe, until Dean's muscles turned to jelly and everything went black.

* * *

They laid in bed for a while, until Rich had to leave for work at seven. He got dressed and grabbed his keys off the night stand. "I'll call you when I get off, if you want to go out or something."

Cas nodded. "Okay." He smiled. "Have a good day."

Rich smiled back. "Thanks. You, too."

Rich left and Cas called the piercing studio. They told him to stop by any time, as jewelry changes only took five minutes. He got dressed, fed Cujo, let him out again, and started up the Impala.

The piercer told him his lip was healing well, and she put a captive ring in for him, bagging his old jewelry to take home. He thanked her, paid for the jewelry, tipped her again, and left.

When he got back to the house, he laid back on the couch with Cujo. He rolled a joint and turned on the TV. He smoked, not really watching the show. His thoughts kept wandering to Dean. He'd had a good time with Rich these past few weeks, and he realized that he was depressed before, when he'd accepted that Dean wasn't coming back. He still kind of was depressed, but he was glad he was slowly moving on with his life, although he still thought about Dean every day. He missed him so much. It was just a few days shy of two months since Dean had left, and there had been no contact between them for weeks. Cas just hoped he was alive and safe.

He was still thinking of Dean when he nodded off on the couch.

* * *

When Dean's eyes fluttered open again, Al was rummaging through his bag right in front of him. He pulled out all of Dean's gear, carefully setting it up on the ground in front of him and preparing a shot. He didn't seem to notice Dean was awake. Once he'd pulled the liquid up into the barrel of the needle, he shoved everything back into the duffel bag and tossed it to the side. He moved towards Dean, grabbing his arm and pausing when he realized Dean was awake. He grinned down at him, holding up the needle.

"They'll just write you off as another overdose," he said calmly. "You know how many people think you junkies deserve it?" He paused, letting out an amused chuckle. "I can hear the remarks now. ' _Who cares, it was his choice to inject himself with poison.' 'Good riddance, junkies are trash anyway.'_ People really have no sympathy for you pathetic pieces of shit... it's kind of funny."

Dean winced as Al pressed the needle into his skin and pulled back a bit on the plunger. A small amount of blood appeared in the barrel, and Al pushed back down, sending it back in and following it with nearly twice the amount of dope that Dean had used the first time he'd OD'd over a year ago in Kansas. Dean closed his eyes and hung his head, halfheartedly hoping his tolerance was so high now that he would just nod out for a while and Al would leave.

Al withdrew the needle, tossing it to the ground and pushing Dean over. He stilled for a moment, watching Dean, until the drugs coursing through his veins caused him to go even limper than before. Al reached forward and roughly yanked his pants down to his ankles, pushing Dean onto his stomach and leaning back to remove his own pants. Dean barely heard, "Gotta have a little fun before I go."

Instantly there was a searing pain between his legs, shooting up his spine. He couldn't really move, but he tried to protest vocally.

"Shut the fuck up," Al hissed. He reached down and grabbed him by the hair, pushing his face into the dirt and leaves.

He spent the next five minutes fading in and out of consciousness until he eventually lost it completely. When he came to again, Al was preparing another shot. "Impressive tolerance," he murmured to himself, staring down at the liquid as he pulled it into the barrel. "But this oughtta do it."

Dean closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath. At least now this life would finally be over. Maybe he'd be luckier in the next one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DEAN'S NOT DEAD I SWEAR I JUST NEEDED TO END THIS CHAPTER ALREADY, IT WAS NEARLY 4,000 WORDS OF HEARTBREAK
> 
> please don't hate me... I WARNED YOU IT WOULD BE DARK LIKE TWENTY CHAPTERS AGO D:
> 
> remember i promised lots of comfort after all the hurt? things are going to get better from here forward, i swear... only like, 2 chapters until our boys reunite :')
> 
> Songs used: [Bob Seger - Against the Wind (1981)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RcDCvQbOdig)


	69. Chapter 69

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: torture, descriptions of the physical/psychological aftermath of rape

Dean felt like he was on fire. His eyes flew open and immediately began watering from the heat and the stench... almost like rotten eggs- _sulfur_. He tried to look around, but was unable to see much. All he knew was he was in an indescribable amount of pain. He tried to move, and realized his wrists and ankles were bound.

He blinked a few times, clearing the tears and willing himself to focus. He looked towards his left hand and saw that he was shackled. An ear-piercing scream sounded in the distance. He looked down and felt his stomach drop when he realized he was suspended mid-air. All around him, there was fire and brimstone and- He closed his eyes and inhaled a shaky breath, searching inside himself for some semblance of calm. This had to be a hallucination. Hell wasn't real. It was the most vivid and fucked up one he'd ever had, but it had to be.

A familiar voice sounded to his right. "Finally awake, I see?"

Dean turned his head to follow the voice and was speechless. "A... _Al?!_ "

He frowned. "Don't shorten my name like that, _Dee_. It sounds cheap."

"What... what are you talking about?" Dean gasped. "Where am I?"

He smiled. "You know exactly where you are." He leaned forward, producing a knife with serrated edges, and pressing it to Dean's neck. "Now say my name properly."

Dean tilted his head away from the edge of the blade, breathing heavily. "I- I don't know it," he stammered.

He quickly pulled the knife away, leaving a nice gash across Dean's chest. "Say it!" he yelled.

Dean cried out, and once the noise died in his throat, his head lolled forward.

He pressed the knife into Dean's side, and Dean could feel the pressure and searing stinging as the skin finally gave way and split open. He slowly moved it downwards, slicing Dean's flesh open. "Say. It."

Dean grunted, searching his mind for anything. What could Al stand for? "Al..." He lifted his head, staring into his eyes, and suddenly, it came to him. "...Alastair?" he choked out. He wasn't sure where it came from, and he'd never heard the name before in his life, but judging the grin on Alastair's face, Dean was correct.

"That's better," he said, straightening up. "Now-" He suddenly stopped, turning and staring off into the distance. Dean blinked and Alastair was gone. He heaved a sigh of relief, although he couldn't quite say he was actually relieved. Alastair would be back soon enough. He looked up to his wrist shackles and began yanking his left arm. They wouldn't budge, and after a brief struggle, Dean was sure if he tried any harder he would snap his forearm.

Just as he gave up, he heard some kind of commotion coming from behind him. Inhuman screaming, electricity crackling. He tried to turn his head, but he couldn't see anything. Suddenly everything was bathed in blue light, and a sense of calm washed over Dean. He wanted to be terrified of this unrealistic change in his mental state, but because of the influence it had over him, he couldn't be. The light grew brighter until it was seemingly right behind him. He closed his eyes and lowered his head, afraid of what it was behind him that was so powerful, and then it disappeared.

The sense of calm didn't disappear, though. When he lifted his head and opened his eyes, he was met face-to-face with Cas, although he looked like he was in his thirties, and he had _wings_. Gigantic, black wings, that were flapping to keep Cas in place, blowing Dean's hair back. " _Cas?!_ " he shouted in disbelief, squinting against the powerful wind.

Cas didn't respond. He reached down and grabbed each ankle shackle, busting it apart as easily as if he was tearing apart a toilet paper roll. He then grabbed both of the chains holding up his arms, yanking inward and breaking them from wherever they were secured. Suddenly Dean was on the ground, but only so Cas could turn Dean around and press his chest to Dean's back. He then wrapped his right arm around Dean's chest, gripping his left shoulder, and then the ground was dropping out from beneath them.

Or, at least Dean thought it was. They were actually flying. Upwards, so fast that Dean thought he might throw up. The flames were getting farther and farther, and they were heading towards the brightest white light Dean had ever seen. Dean was positive this was a some kind of vivid hallucination he was having as his brain was finally dying along with his body, and it was ending now. It became brighter and brighter, and Dean closed his eyes against it. It pierced through his eyelids, and he thought he heard someone talking.

"Hey! Hey!" He felt someone lightly slapping his face. "Oh my god, please wake up."

He cracked open his eyes again and he was met by a blonde girl's worried face hovering over him, the sun shining down brightly behind her. He groaned a little, closing his eyes again against the light.

"Oh my god," she repeated, and Dean could tell in her voice she was crying. He slowly opened his eyes again. His vision was still pretty hazy, but she couldn't have been more than seventeen, and it looked like she had blood on her face and mouth. She must've been giving him CPR. "I already called 911," she said quickly. "They're coming."

Suddenly everything that had just happened came flooding back. Al, the hallucination... He tried to lift his head, but was unable to yet.

"P- please, don't move," she urged.

"No... 911," he rasped, trying to reach out to grab her arm. "Please." Al's chokehold had completely taken his voice.

She didn't seem to understand. "I called them," she said, nodding.

"No," he said louder, shaking his head a bit. He couldn't attract the attention, and god forbid it made it into the newspaper. Al thought he was dead, and he needed to keep it that way. He slowly lifted his head, looking down to see that his pants were up and fastened. He dropped his head back again in relief; at least Al was committed to making it look like an overdose.

"I don't understand," she said softly. "You don't want medical treatment?" She suddenly produced a bottle of water, opening it and handing it to him.

"No," he ground out, reaching out and taking the bottle from her. He slowly propped himself up and tilted his head back, chugging half of the bottle as she watched him intently. He could barely swallow, but he got it down and slowly turned his head to look at her. "Thanks," he croaked, lifting up the bottle a bit. "But... no..."

She frowned. "O- okay..." She pulled out her phone and called emergency services back, sounding unsure. "Um... hi, I just called about finding a guy in the woods? I'm really sorry, but he came to and... he ran off." She paused, listening to the dispatcher on the phone. "Yes, that was me that called. No... I have no idea where he went. He ran off and flagged someone down. Got into their car." There was another pause, shorter this time. "Yeah, I just didn't want you to send an ambulance out for nothing. Okay, thank you. Bye." She hung up and pocketed her phone, staring down at Dean suspiciously. "Why are you refusing treatment? Are you on the run?"

Dean smiled weakly. "Kind of... but... not from the law." He lifted the bottle to his lips again, finishing the remainder of water.

She frowned, seeming to understand what he meant. "Oh. Well... let me help you, at least." She straightened up and offered her arm.

Dean took her arm and pulled himself up into a sitting position, letting out a pained groan. "I'll be okay."

She moved back a bit, still staring at him. "Can I... call anyone for you?"

"I..." He trailed off, unsure. Suddenly he could faintly hear Kansas playing, muffled. He looked behind her, and his bag was lying a few feet away. He sighed in relief. "No... I'm okay... My bag," he said weakly, gesturing towards it. She looked behind her and grabbed it, placing it in front of him. He stared at her for a moment. "What are you doing here?"

She glanced towards the dirt road, where her car was sitting, the driver's side door wide open. "This road leads to a trail. I was on my way to park in the lot and go hiking when I saw you."

"Can... can you give me a ride?"

She nodded. "Where?"

"Anywhere... but here."

She nodded, leaning forward to help him up. It took him a minute to get his bearings, but he eventually was able to stand on his own two feet. He hobbled to the car, dropping down into the passenger seat and wincing. He slid down so he was sitting on his tailbone, gritting his teeth. She threw the car in reverse and backed down the dirt road, as he stared down at his cell phone, turning it over in his hands. He needed to get somewhere safe- if Al found him again in his weakened state, it was game over. Suddenly he remembered, nearly two months ago, an offer extended to him. _"If you need a place to stay or whatever, why don't you take my number."_

He quickly opened his contacts list, not bothering to check the missed call, and scrolled down until he found her number. His hands shaking a bit, he tapped on it and held the phone up to his ear, wincing a bit when it touched. Three rings and she answered. "Hello?"

Dean swallowed. "...Jo?"

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line. Then, "...Who's this?"

Dean closed his eyes. "Dean."

More silence. "...Dean?"

"Yeah, you, uh... gave me a ride to Lawrence-"

" _Oh!_ " she said suddenly. "Dean! I didn't think I would hear from you again."

He huffed a small laugh. "Yeah... um..." He ran his thumb over a spot of dried blood on his jeans, his throat tightening as tears finally welled up in his eyes. "Is there any way... you could pick me up?" He tried to keep his voice even, but he failed miserably. He saw the girl driving glance at him for a split-second, but he acted like he didn't notice, turning to look out the window.

"Where are you?" she asked, without missing a beat, and Dean could hear the jingle of keys.

He smiled a bit, but let out a small, sad laugh. He wasn't sure why Jo was so eager to help him. "I dunno, actually. Hold on." He lowered the phone from his ear and turned to the girl in the drivers seat. "Um... wherever you're taking me, can it be somewhere in the direction of Kansas City?"

She nodded. "Is that person coming to get you? Tell her Pleasanton."

Dean brought the phone back up to his ear. "Pleasanton?"

"Okay," Jo said. "It'll take me an hour, but I'll be there."

"Thank you, Jo," Dean said quietly.

"No problem." She hung up.

Dean lowered the phone, and he was quiet for a minute before clearing his throat. "Thank you. For giving me a ride... for saving my life."

She glanced over at him with a small smile. "Don't mention it."

When they pulled up, he texted Jo and told her where in town they were. She texted back that she was still half an hour away, but she would be there soon. Dean opened up his bag and began rummaging around. "I want to give you gas money," he mumbled as he searched.

"That's not really necessary..." she said softly.

Suddenly he let his head fall back and sighed. "He took my money."

She raised an eyebrow. "Who did?"

Dean licked his lips, feeling the swollen cuts, tasting the blood. "The guy who did this to me."

"Is... is that why he beat you up?" she asked carefully. "To rob you?"

"No," he responded quietly, rolling his head on his shoulders to look out the window. "It was just an afterthought."

She hesitated. "Well... don't worry about it. I didn't want to accept the money, anyway."

"Thank you," he said softly, still looking out the window. He lit a cigarette, thankful Al at least didn't take those. They sat in silence until Jo pulled up into the spot next to them. Her eyes widened at the sight of Dean, and she clambered out of the car, grabbing onto the passenger side door and leaning down to look into Dean's window.

"Dean, what happened?" she gasped, her eyes trailing over his face.

He grinned sheepishly. He imagined he was quite the sight. "Some asshole. Couldn't kill me though, I'm still kickin'."

"He tried to kill you?" Jo exclaimed, and Dean frowned. He hadn't really meant to reveal that, he was just trying to make a joke to keep himself from losing it. "Just... go get in the car," she said. "We need to get you cleaned up."

He nodded and grabbed his bag, looking to the girl who'd saved him one more time. "What's your name?"

"Mary," she responded.

 _Mary._ He swallowed. "I'm Dean... T- thank you. Again. For everything." He lowered his head and Jo backed up and opened the door for him. He climbed out and went around to the passenger side of Jo's car, slowly lowering himself into the seat.

Jo turned back to Mary, leaning down to speak to her through the window. "Thank you so much for giving him a ride."

"It was no trouble," she said, watching Dean in the other car. She looked to Jo. "Is he family?"

"No," Jo answered, pursing her lips. "Just a friend."

Mary nodded. "I tried to get him an ambulance... but he refused. Maybe you can convince him to go to the hospital."

Jo frowned. "Yeah... maybe." She straightened up. "Thanks again."

* * *

Cas awoke with a start on the couch, his head spinning. He'd had the strangest nightmare. He'd been in some place that looked eerily like _Hell_ , and he wasn't sure how to describe it, but he wasn't... human. He was with other's like himself, and they were fighting these creatures... demons, he thought? He was confused. He wasn't a religious person, and he didn't believe in Heaven _or_ Hell. He'd never had such a strange dream.

Then he'd seen Dean, on the rack being tortured, and he'd understood the purpose of the dream. He was there to save Dean, like he always was. So he did. He broke the chains, he gripped him tight, and they were gone into blinding light. That was it, and he awoke on the couch, soaked in a cold sweat and with Cujo at his feet, head tilted and whining softly.

He immediately pulled out his phone, opening Dean's contact and hovering his thumb over the number. He needed to know that Dean was okay. He needed to try one more time to get him to come home, because that was his purpose in life, to watch over Dean, and he understood that now.

* * *

"Dean."

Dean jumped at the touch, and Jo pulled her hand away. "Sorry. We're at my house."

Dean groaned, straightening up in his seat and wincing in pain. "Your house?"

"Yeah," she said softly, gripping the steering wheel. "Did you want to go to the hospital?"

"No," he said quickly. "No."

"Okay... Why don't we go inside and get you cleaned up. How's that sound?"

He nodded and opened the door, slowly rising from his seat. She came around to the passenger side and helped him into the house and up the stairs. Once they got into the bathroom, he dropped his bag onto the floor and sunk down onto the toilet.

She turned the water on. "I'm going to get you some clean clothes... I'll be right back." He nodded and she left, returning momentarily with a pair of pajama pants and an oversized tee shirt. She set them down on the counter. "I don't have any men's underwear, but I can wash your clothes for you if you want." He nodded again and she reached for his bag.

"Wait," he croaked. He reached out and grabbed her wrist, and she jumped. "Sorry," he said quickly, "but... needles." He didn't want to take the chance that a cap had come off in his bag and Jo would be stuck.

She nodded and picked up his bag, holding it up for him as he rummaged through. He pulled out all of the clothes, dropping them to the floor and feeling relief wash over him when he saw that the framed photo of his mother was still in the bottom of his bag.

"What about what you're wearing?" she asked quietly.

"I'm just gonna throw them away," he mumbled. "Except my jacket." She helped him get his jacket off, and she went to leave when he stopped her. "Wait..." He reached into the inside chest pocket, coming up empty, before suddenly recovering a hazy memory of Al patting him down in the woods, checking his pockets. He'd come across the photo and pulled out his lighter, burning it right in front of Dean. He lowered his head. "Nevermind."

She backed away towards the door. "Take as much time as you need, and yell if you need anything," she said, closing the door.

He reached forward and clicked the lock, then slowly stood up and turned to the mirror. He wasn't sure why, but he needed to see. He now knew what rock bottom felt like, but he needed to see what it looked like, and he needed to assess the damage. He was covered in blood- he was honestly surprised no one had called the police when he'd gotten out of Mary's car in Pleasanton. Aside from all the small cuts and nicks, he had a nice gash on the right side of his head from where Al had knocked him out with the bat, although three-quarters of it was hidden below the hairline. There was another decent split vertically through his left eyebrow, and another one on his bottom lip, which was swollen. The left side of his face was beginning to bruise from Al's punches, and his eyes were bloodshot. The worst part, though, was the dark purple blotches on his neck where Al's hands had been. Just looking at them made his throat tighten and panic rise in him, and suddenly he could feel the pressure of Al's fingers all over again, feel Al's weight on top of him, and he could see the evil in Al's eyes as he stared into Dean's own.

He tore his gaze away from the mirror and started to get undressed. His stomach churned as he dropped his pants and underwear and was greeted with a blood stain. He kicked them aside, climbing into the bathtub. He slowly lowered himself down, sitting back on his tailbone, and let the water wash over him. It stung like hell, and he watched as the blood and dirt ran down his body and into the drain. He dropped his head into his hands, finally allowing himself to cry.

At some point, he heard his phone ringing from his bag, but he couldn't be bothered to wonder who it was. He still got the occasional call from people who had somehow gotten his number and didn't know he now worked under someone, so he figured it was that. He had to delete that app Meg had installed, eventually.

He couldn't be bothered with anything happening outside of that shower. He was too busy thinking- thinking about everything that happened, everything that had led him to this point, everything he'd done wrong. He was certain this was all his fault. There had to be a reason his life was shit, right? And even if there wasn't, his own decisions had led him here, so he had no one to blame but himself. He was the one who started the fire, he was the one who started using drugs, he was the one who left Cas, he was the one who started selling his body, and he was the one who agreed to get involved with Al. He was the one who let his body get into such a weakened state, that even at twenty-one, the supposed peak of his life, he couldn't even fight off another man when his _life_ depended on it. He wondered how much different his life would be if he'd done even just _one_ of those things differently.

Finally, he stood up on wobbly legs to reach for the shampoo. He washed his hair, wincing as it seeped into the cuts on his scalp and face. He rinsed it out and grabbed the soap, lathering up the washcloth Jo had given him and dragging it across his battered body. He hesitated when he reached his lower half, his hands shaking. He didn't even want to touch himself. He faintly remembered Al calling him a come rag at some point. He screwed his eyes shut and dragged the washcloth across himself, feeling panic rising in his throat. He instantly felt like he needed to use the bathroom, and before he could even react, he was watching a small amount of semen and coagulated blood wash down the drain.

He looked away, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth as he finished washing. Paralyzing numbness was radiating up from his toes, and he just wanted to use. Or sleep. Or both. Whatever would get his brain to _stop_.

After what seemed like a lifetime, the water ran cold, and he stepped out and wrapped himself in the towel Jo had left on the counter. He slowly patted himself dry and got dressed in the clothes she'd left. He brushed his teeth and checked them. One of his top left molars was a little loose, but nothing major. When he exited the bathroom, he could smell food. He felt like he shouldn't have much of an appetite, but he was starving. He'd probably eat a can of dollar-store dog food at this point. He slowly made his way downstairs, and Jo was standing at the stove, cooking bacon and eggs. She turned around, smiling weakly. "I figured you'd be hungry."

"Yeah," he agreed. "I am." He dropped his bag on an empty chair and took a seat next to it. She finished cooking and set the plate down in front of him with a glass of water. She grabbed some kind of leftovers from the fridge for herself, sitting down across from him. They ate in silence, until Dean was done and had just finished his water.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Jo asked carefully.

He smiled sadly, not meeting her eyes. "Not really." He wondered how much she could tell just by looking at him. Did she think he'd just gotten his ass kicked, or could she tell it was so much worse?

"Who did this to you, Dean?"

"Some guy I was staying with," he mumbled, hands in his lap, staring down at the table.

"A... boyfriend?" she asked hesitantly.

Dean visibly grimaced. "No."

"Okay," she said softly. "Maybe you should get some sleep." He nodded and slowly rose from his chair. "I don't have a guest room, but you can sleep in my room, okay?"

"The couch is fine..." he said, still not meeting her eyes.

"No, Dean," she said firmly, standing up. "You're sleeping in a bed. Okay?"

He didn't have the energy to argue. He nodded and picked up his bag, following her back up the stairs and past the bathroom, into her bedroom. She pulled back the blanket and motioned for him to set his bag down on the floor.

"Yell for me or text me if you need anything, okay? I'll be right downstairs but I have to work tonight at eight."

He nodded and cleared his throat. "Um... thank you. I'm, uh, not sure why you are so willing to help me, but... thank you."

She gave him a sad smile. "Get some rest, okay?" Her gaze lingered on him for a second more before she turned and left the room, leaving the door cracked slightly.

Dean looked down at her bed. At least the sheets were red, so maybe the blood stains wouldn't show too much. He wasn't actively bleeding, but he was sure his wounds would be wet and oozing for a while longer. He honestly felt like he shouldn't even get in Jo's bed. He was dirty- maybe not in the literal sense, as he'd just spent over an hour in the shower, but he felt like there were some things you just couldn't wash off.

But Jo insisted, so he climbed into the bed, wincing as he settled into the mattress, and pulled the blanket up over himself. Just then, his phone went off again, a text message this time. He wanted to ignore it and pass out, but he also wanted to delete that stupid app. And what if it was Sammy? With a groan he rolled over, reaching into his bag and pulling out his phone. His breath caught in his throat when he saw the screen.

_2 Missed Calls from: Cas_   
_1 New Text Message from: Cas_

He hadn't heard from Cas in weeks. He assumed he'd moved on, forgotten about Dean and maybe even forgotten about Dean's phone bill, too, because the credit card was paid by his parents and all the payments were automatic. He immediately opened the text message. It only read _'Dean?'_ He checked the time stamp. It was sent one hour ago, and the notification had been a secondary alert because it went an hour unchecked.

He immediately hit reply. _'Cas?'_

Cas had been panicking for the last few hours, ever since he'd woken from the dream and been unable to reach Dean. When his phone went off, he felt a wave of relief wash over him, and he quickly texted him back.

_'Dean, Im so glad youre alive. Are you alright? Will you call me? Please?'_

Dean hesitated, biting his lip but quickly releasing it when a new surge of pain radiated from it. He wasn't sure if he could handle hearing Cas' voice, and he wasn't sure what was so urgent that Cas suddenly needed to speak with him. He felt panic bubbling inside of him, but he pushed it down. He needed to hear Cas' voice, even if he couldn't handle it. He _needed_ to. He tapped the phone icon and shakily brought the phone up to his ear.

Cas stared at his phone, waiting for a response from Dean. He felt his stomach knot up when his phone began vibrating in his hands and the screen read _Dean calling_. He tapped answer and quickly brought the phone to his ear.

"...Dean?"

A smile spread across Dean's face and he exhaled a shaky breath. "Hey, Cas," he said, his voice hoarse.

Cas let out a long sigh. "It's so good to hear your voice, Dean. I..." He paused and audibly swallowed. "Are you alright?"

"Been better."

"I..." Cas trailed off, unsure of what to say. What was there to even say? Dean was alright, and that was why he'd called, right? He wanted to tell Dean about the dream, but he felt stupid. He still wasn't sure if Dean even cared about him in that way anymore.

"Cas..." Dean trailed off as well. What should he say after all this time? 'I'm sorry?' That wouldn't really cut it. He wanted to see Cas again, though, so bad, with everything in him, even if Cas was with someone else now. He wanted to beg and plead for him to just let him back into his life, to help him, but he knew that he couldn't expect Cas to ever forgive him for what he did, and he'd already blown so many of the chances Cas had given him.

"Dean..." Cas closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had to ask one more time. "Please come home."

Dean's swollen throat tightened further and his eyes began to sting. "You... you still want me back?" he choked out in disbelief, staring up at Jo's ceiling.

"Of course, Dean," Cas said quickly, feeling a glimmer of hope. "Dean, please, where are you? I will come get you. Right now."

Dean let out a shaky breath, bringing his hand up to wipe his eyes. Even if Cas wanted him before, he had no idea how bad things were now. "Cas, I'm completely ruined," Dean pushed out. "I thought I was broken before-"

"Dean," Cas interrupted. "Stop. I love you-" He stopped, and Dean could hear over the line that he was getting choked up. "No matter what," he finished. "I promise. Please."

Dean closed his eyes, letting the tears roll down his face and to his ears. "God, Cas, I fucked up so bad. I just want to see you again."

Cas let out a stuttered sigh of relief. "Me, too, Dean. Where are you?"

"Kansas City."

"I can be there by tonight if I fly, Dean, but... will you fly back with me?" Dean hesitated. He briefly wondered if they could rent a car to drive back, and as if Cas could read his mind, he continued, "We can't rent a car. You need to be twenty-five."

"Um... I..." Dean couldn't even entertain the thought of flying right now. He was so emotionally wrecked, he was afraid another panic attack might send him over the edge, and he really didn't want that to happen while trapped on a plane ten thousand feet in the air.

"Okay," Cas said, taking Dean's silence as a _no_. "I'll drive the Impala. It's at least a twenty-four hour drive, though, so... I won't be there until this time tomorrow." He paused. "You... you aren't going to change your mind, right?"

"No, Cas... of course not," he said softly.

"Okay." Cas paused. "Okay," he said again, quicker this time. "I have to get ready. Get Cujo's stuff because he can't be here alone, gas up the car... I need the address."

"Um... The girl I'm staying with isn't here..." Dean didn't want to explain to Cas that he was too weak to get out of bed and go down the stairs. "I'll have her text you the address."

"The-" Cas cut himself off. Now was not the time to ask about who he was staying with. "Okay. That's fine. I- I'll see you soon... okay?"

Dean smiled weakly. "Okay, Cas." He heard a click as Cas hung up and he opened a text to Jo. _'cas is coming to get me... can you send him the address?'_ He included Cas' number and hit send.

She replied quickly. _'of course... now get some sleep'_

 _'thank you'_ He tossed his phone back into his bag, rolling back over to stare up at the ceiling. He was exhausted, but his mind wouldn't stop spinning. He wished he could've accepted Cas' love before all of this, because he had no idea how he could be expected to believe that Cas would still want him now. He worried about seeing Cas again. He couldn't stop imagining it going the way it did when he was hallucinating outside of the motel.

Finally, he had enough of his own thoughts fighting with the voices, and he was too exhausted to think anymore. His stomach was uneasy as it tried to digest the food Jo had made him. His entire body hurt. He rolled over and began cooking up a shot. The only good thing about being a heroin addict... his drug of choice was a mighty powerful pain reliever.

As he settled back into the mattress, his brain began to get fuzzy, his vision grew hazy around the edges, and he finally passed out.


	70. Chapter 70

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: the next few chapters will likely contain mentions of the rape as Dean recovers/processes his memories

Cas slowly lowered the phone from his ear, looking up with wide eyes to meet Cujo's stare. He swallowed. "We're going to get Dean," he uttered.

Cujo perked up his ears and tilted his head.

Cas stood motionless for a moment before springing into action. Cujo watched with confusion as he ran around the house, collecting anything he would need for Cujo- dog food, dog bowls, a leash, poop bags. Then he located his backpack and shoved some clothes, a toothbrush, and toothpaste into it. He'd just shaved, so he left his razor. He dumped out his schoolbag, which he hadn't used in weeks, and threw all of Cujo's stuff into it. He stopped for a moment, trying to think if he'd forgotten anything. _His phone charger._ He ran into the bedroom and grabbed it, leashed up Cujo, and brought him to the car. He threw the bags in the trunk and climbed into the front seat, starting her up and peeling out. He just had to make two quick stops first.

His first stop was Rich's job. He felt horrible, but he had told Rich this might happen. Just as he was walking in, hoping Rich was there and not out on a delivery, Rich came strolling out into the parking lot, presumably for his lunch break. He waved, but lowered his hand and frowned when Cas drew closer.

"Hey, I just got out... What's wrong?"

Cas sighed, turning and nodding towards the car. They walked back over and leaned back against the side of the car. They each lit a cigarette, and Rich pet Cujo, who had his head out the window.

"Rich..." Cas started, staring off across the parking lot. "I really hate to do this so suddenly, and while you're at work, no less... but..." He turned to Rich. "I'm going to pick up Dean."

The corner of Rich's mouth twitched a bit, and he dropped his hand from Cujo's head. "Oh. ...Okay."

Cas frowned, squinting against the sun. "I'm really sorry, Rich, but... I did tell you this may happen, right?"

"No, you did," Rich said quickly, looking down and ashing his cigarette. "It's just..." He looked back up at Cas. "Can I ask _why_? I mean... he hurt you, Cas. Who in their right mind would do that to someone they l-"

"Rich," Cas interrupted softly. "I understand what you're saying, I really do. And you're right. Dean is not in his right mind." He paused, looking off and worrying his lip, before turning back to Rich. "Dean has several diagnosed psychiatric disabilities. He literally does not have a," he brought his fingers up to make air-quotes, " _right mind_."

Rich nodded slowly. "I... didn't know."

Cas nodded solemnly. "When we moved here, he was on medication, but... he stopped taking it." He noticed the bewilderment on Rich's face. "They have a lot of unpleasant side effects," he offered in explanation.

Rich looked away, nodding again.

"I know it's difficult to understand," Cas sighed. "But I've known Dean since I was thirteen. I've watched mental illness and addiction eat him alive... but I also know what he's capable of. I can't give up on him."

Rich nodded a third time. He understood much better now, but he still didn't know what to say.

Cas turned his body towards him. "I don't want anything to change, Rich. I want us to remain friends and I don't want things to be weird or awkward between us."

Rich met his eyes. "I feel the same way, Cas, but... do you think Dean will... when you tell him? He's..." He forced out a nervous laugh. "He's going to hate me."

Cas pursed his lips. "I hadn't really thought about that. I guess... we'll just have to see how it goes. But he won't hate you," he added.

Rich nodded, still looking away. Cas stepped forward and pulled him into a hug.

"You know," Rich said into his shoulder, "even though it was shitty things that happened in our lives that brought us together, I'm grateful for the short time we had." He felt stupid saying it, especially since their relationship was now dropping a level, from sexual to platonic, but he wanted Cas to know.

"Me, too," Cas said, and they pulled apart.

"So..." Rich sighed, rocking back on the balls of his feet. "Where is he?"

"Back in Kansas," Cas frowned. "So I have to get on the road."

Rich nodded. "Well... drive safe. Text me when you can and let me know you're okay."

Cas nodded. "I'll talk to you soon."

Rich forced a smile, letting his gaze linger on Cas briefly before turning away and walking to his truck. Cas exhaled a long sigh and got into the car.

Rich watched Cas pull away in the Impala, feeling a couple of things he couldn't quite put his finger on. He knew he was worried for Cas. He hoped he wouldn't be hurt again. He was also happy for him, though, and he wished that one day, he could find someone to care about him as much as Cas cared about Dean. He was twenty-six, and he wasn't getting any younger. He had to admit, though, Cas had taught him something important about love and loyalty.

Cas' next stop was Craig's. If he was going to drive for twenty-four hours straight, he was going to need provisions. He left Cujo in the car, and was in and out in five minutes, with three-hundred dollars worth of coke in his trench coat pocket. He knew it may be excessive, but he was looking at at least three to four days before arriving back home with Dean. He checked the time- it had only been forty-five minutes since they'd spoken on the phone. He realized he had a new text message, from an unknown number with a Kansas area code. He opened it up.

_'hey cas, this is jo. my address is 1274 Main Street, Kansas City'_

He typed it into his GPS, and it was a twenty-six hour drive. He checked the time- it was around noon- and quickly figured out what time he would arrive, since they were in a different time zone.

_'Thank you. It's a twenty-six hour drive, so I should be there tomorrow at 4pm'_

She replied quickly. _'just call me before you get here, so I can make sure deans awake. he needs a lot of rest'_

Cas' stomach sank. _'...is he okay?'_ He waited for her response with bated breath.

_'I think he'll be okay. dont worry too much. i know he'll be happy to see you.'_

_'Okay... Im leaving now. Talk to you tomorrow.'_ He quickly broke open the bag, making up two lines on a school pamphlet he had lying in the back seat. He rolled up a twenty dollar bill, pulling one into each nostril before tossing the pamphlet onto the floor of the passenger seat, throwing the car in reverse, and peeling out of the parking lot.

* * *

Seventeen hours. He'd been driving for seventeen hours, doing nearly ninety. He'd just entered Nebraska, and the only thing keeping him awake was the blow and the radio. He'd only stopped three times, briefly, to gas up and stretch their legs, feed Cujo, and walk him around to use the bathroom. He only had eight more hours to go. He was excited he'd managed to shave an hour off the travel time, but his mind was racing with what could have happened to Dean, what would happen when they saw each other again... who this girl was he was staying with. He wondered if Dean even still wanted to be with him, or if he just wanted help. He remembered one of the texts Dean had sent him when he first left... _'maybe we can talk or whatever but i just need you to move on ok?'_

Suddenly the thought popped into his head that Dean may have just gotten tired of being homeless (or whatever he was doing, Cas had no idea) and he wanted money and a place to stay. He tried to tell himself that that was ridiculous; Dean wouldn't use him that way. ...Or would he? Cas had seen his brother do some pretty shitty things because of his addiction that he knew were contradictory to who he really was as a person. Why couldn't it be the same for Dean? He gritted his teeth and pushed the thought away. He needed to give Dean the benefit of the doubt.

He glanced in the rear view mirror, and Cujo had his head out the window, eyes closed against the wind and tongue flapping in the breeze. Cas smiled in spite of himself. He knew Cujo would be happy to see his daddy. Cas knew from the day they brought him home that Dean was his favorite dad. He brought his gaze back to the road, turning up the radio and pressing a little harder on the gas.

* * *

Dean awoke feeling like he'd been hit by a truck. He checked the time, and it was eleven am. He frowned, squinting at his phone screen. That couldn't be right, it was the afternoon when he spoke to Cas, wasn't it? He briefly became scared it may have been a dream, but then he checked his call log. The call to Cas read _Yesterday, 1 PM_

He'd slept for _twenty hours_. He groaned, shifting in bed. He briefly remembered waking up at some point from withdrawals. He'd taken a piss, shot up again, and passed back out. He gingerly touched his face, and his wounds were dry and crusty. He slowly pushed himself up and rose out of bed, grunting and groaning. He wobbled to the top of the stairs. "...Jo?"

She appeared at the bottom of the stairs. "Hey," she said, smiling. "You're up."

He nodded. "Can I, uh... take another shower?"

"Of course. Your towel is hanging in the bathroom and there are washcloths in the closet at the end of the hallway." She paused. "I spoke with Cas yesterday," she said, her tone softer. "He said he should be here around four today, but... he's going to let me know when he's close." Dean nodded. "Oh!" she said suddenly, turning and walking off. "I have your clothes. I'll bring them up to you."

He went into the bathroom and turned on the water, and she entered shortly after, carrying a small laundry basket full of his few socks, underwear, jeans and shirts. "Here you go."

"Thank you," he said, looking down at them. She nodded and left the bathroom, closing the door behind her. He stared down at the toilet. He really had to go to the bathroom, but he was terrified it would hurt. He went back into the bedroom first, shot up, and stumbled back into the bathroom to get it over with. He was right, and he almost cried, but he got through it and got into the shower, making a mental note to refuse any solid food for as long as possible.

He stayed in the shower for nearly as long as the day before, to let his wounds soak. It was a catch twenty-two, because he needed to keep them clean (honestly, he probably should've gotten stitches), but hot showers increased swelling. Once he was finished washing, he turned the water to cool and let it run over his head and neck. It made him shiver, but he hoped it would help decrease the swelling. He didn't want Cas to see him like that.

It was nearly twelve-thirty when he finally got dressed and re-packed his bag. He put on jeans and a flannel, and pulled his black hoodie over it. The hood didn't do much to hide the choke bruises, but he was cold, and at least the sleeves would hide the track marks. He made his way downstairs and sunk down onto the couch, leaning back into the cushions. The TV was on, set to the local news. Jo entered from the kitchen. "Are you hungry?"

"Just water... please."

She left and came back with a glass of water, handing it to him and sitting down. She pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her hoodie pocket, pulling two out and holding one out to him. He took one and she handed him a lighter. He lit it and handed it back to her. "Thanks," he said, exhaling a small puff of smoke.

She lit her own and pocketed the lighter. "No problem."

They sat in silence for a little while, smoking their cigarettes, until Jo cleared her throat. "So... I'm glad you finally decided to go home."

Dean smiled weakly, leaning forward to snuff his cigarette out in the ashtray. "Me, too. I just..." He leaned back into the couch again, looking down and picking at a thread on the couch. "I don't get why he'd want me back."

Jo frowned. "I don't really know you, Dean... but you seem like a nice person." She paused, searching for the right words to say. "Just because there are some things we can't see in ourselves, it doesn't mean they aren't there."

Dean nodded, turning back to the TV, and his eyelids were heavy. Within a few minutes, he fell asleep again.

* * *

Led Zeppelin blared out into the room, and Jo jumped. She grabbed her phone from the coffee table, glancing to see if it had woken Dean up, but he only stirred. She looked down at her phone. An unknown number was calling, with a Kansas area code. She recognized it as the one she'd been texting Cas on. She tapped answer and brought it to her ear. "Hello?"

"Hey, Jo, it's Castiel."

She paused for a brief second, unaware Cas was a nickname. "Hey."

"I'm, uh, a little ahead of schedule," he said quickly. He sounded flustered. "I should be there in half an hour."

Jo glanced at the clock. It was two. "Okay, that's fine. We're here."

"Is... is he awake?"

"He got up around eleven and showered and came downstairs, but then he fell asleep on the couch again," she said, glancing to Dean, who was still passed out next to her.

"Okay. Um, I brought our dog." He sniffled. "Is that okay? Should I leave him in the car?"

Jo thought for a moment. "Is he big? Will he jump on Dean?"

Cas furrowed his brows, confused by the question. "Well, he's very well trained, so normally I would say no. But, uh, he hasn't seen Dean in two months, so I wouldn't be surprised if he did."

Jo sucked a bit of air in through her teeth. "Maybe I can meet you outside and take him for a walk."

Cas immediately grew more worried, but he swallowed it down. "Okay. So... my GPS says twenty-seven minutes. I'm sure you'll hear me pull up."

"Okay. I'll see you soon." She hung up, turning to Dean. She reached out to wake him, before deciding she could give him a few more minutes. She put her shoes on and pulled a jacket on over her hoodie. She watched the news for fifteen minutes, anxiously spinning her phone in her hands, before finally waking Dean up.

"Dean," she said softly, gently touching his shoulder. He stirred, but didn't respond. "Dean," she repeated, a bit louder. She gave him a harder nudge.

He inhaled sharply and shot up into a sitting position. "Huh?" he gasped.

"Nothing," she said quickly, recoiling her hand just as fast. "I just- Cas will be here soon."

His eyes widened and he reached up to run a hand through his hair, exhaling. "Cas... Right."

"In, like, ten minutes," she continued.

"Okay." He licked his lip and looked down, panic growing in his chest. "Sorry."

"It's okay," she said softly. "I startled you." She paused. "I'm going to go wait for him outside. I'm going to walk the dog, and I'll send him in, okay?"

He looked up again. "You have a dog?"

"No, _your_ dog."

"My... dog," he repeated, looking down again. "He brought Cujo?" He looked back up at her, smiling a bit.

She smiled back. "Yes. But I don't want him to jump on you, so I'm going to take him for a walk."

"Okay." She stood up and smiled down at him before walking towards the door, slipping out and closing it behind her. Dean looked at the TV, down at his shaking hands, anywhere but the front door. The panic that had started in his chest had worked it's way down to his stomach, and he was terrified of what would happen when he finally saw Cas.

 _He just wants to scream at you in person for what you did... Or maybe just laugh at you. For thinking he'd ever give you another chance. Especially now... you're disgusting, used up. Who would want someone so_ broken _?_

* * *

When Cas pulled up, Jo was waiting outside. Maybe Cujo knew Dean was there, or maybe he was just excited to be stopping somewhere that wasn't a gas station, but he immediately started dancing around the backseat and whining. Cas quickly exited the car, and Cujo lunged over the front seat to follow him. Cas leashed him up and turned around just as Jo neared the car.

"Hi," she said, extending her hand. "I'm Jo."

He shook her hand quickly. "Castiel..." He glanced towards the house, worry evident on his face. "Is he awake?"

"Yes," she said, bending down to pet Cujo, who was pressing his side into her legs. "I just woke him up." She held out her hand, and Cas handed her the leash. He reached into the pocket of his trench coat and fished out a roll of poop bags, handing them to her in case he pooped. "You can go inside," she said, watching him staring at the house.

"Yeah," he said softly. He glanced at her. "Thank you." He walked off towards the door as she turned and tugged Cujo towards the sidewalk. After a brief refusal, he followed her, immediately lifting his leg on a telephone pole. Cas placed his hand on the door handle, pausing and taking a deep breath. His heard was hammering in his chest, and he had no idea what to expect when he opened that door.

Dean's mind came reeling to a halt when he heard the front door open. He stood from the couch as quickly as possible, turning to face the door. He swore his heart stopped and it felt like his chest was in a vice.

Cas slipped in the door with his head down, closing it behind him and looking up. They met each other's eyes and it was like time stopped as they took each other in.

The first thing Dean noticed was the hair, but once Cas looked up, he noticed how damn _tired_ he looked. Dean had never seen him look so run-down and defeated in his whole life, and it broke his heart, because it was because of him. He'd hoped Cas would be doing better without him, but it seemed like that wasn't true.

Cas' eyebrows knitted together in worry as his eyes roved over Dean. If the wounds and bruises (especially the ones around his neck- Cas had to fight back tears at the sight) weren't enough, Cas had never seen him so thin and pale. Their brief pause at the sight of each other only lasted for about five seconds, before Cas uttered, "Dean," and was quickly closing the distance between them with determination.

As he neared closer, Dean involuntarily flinched, and as Cas' face fell, he hated himself for it. He knew Cas would never hit him; he _knew_ that. He couldn't even control his own body anymore, and it made him sick.

Cas stopped about a foot away, staring into Dean's dull eyes. Dean stared back for a brief moment, but Cas' were still as intensely blue as ever, and he had to look away. Cas bit his lip ring into his mouth, his eyes filling with tears. "Dean," he repeated, his voice cracking, and he surged forward to throw his arms around him.

Dean briefly tensed, because it hurt, but the comfort of Cas' arms around him overshadowed the pain, and he quickly melted into it, bringing his arms up to wrap them around Cas' rib cage. He felt his throat closing and then he was crying, his body heaving with sobs as Cas held him tightly. They stood like that for a good five minutes, until Dean had quieted down. Cas pulled back, leaving his hands on Dean's upper arms, and looked into his eyes. "Do you want to go?"

Dean nodded, sniffling, and Cas let go of him to drag his trench coat sleeve across his own teary eyes. "Okay," he said, choking on the word a bit. He looked behind Dean, to his bag lying on the couch. "Is that all you have?" Dean nodded. "Okay," Cas said again, stepping past him and grabbing it. He turned again and placed his hand on Dean's lower back, nudging him towards the door. "Let's go."

As they exited the house, Jo was walking up the driveway with Cujo. As soon as Dean stepped out into the light, Cujo went ballistic. He nearly pulled Jo over, choking himself on the leash and literally screaming. Cas' face turned bright red, embarrassed by his behavior, but he couldn't blame him one bit. "You can let him go!" he yelled to Jo over the racket.

Jo released the leash and Cas took a few steps forward, in front of Dean, stepping in front of Cujo to divert his path and reaching down to grab the leash. He held it firmly so the nearly ten-month-old German Shepherd could greet Dean without knocking him over. Cujo flung himself into Dean's legs. Dean wobbled, but kept his balance, reaching down with both hands to rough him up. "Hey, buddy... Did ya miss me?"

Cujo collapsed to the ground, rolling around on his back and emitting an ungodly howling noise as Dean rubbed his belly. Cas was sure the neighbors would think the dog was being tortured. "I've never seen him so excited," he said sheepishly to Jo.

She grinned, watching Dean and Cujo. "Guess he missed his dad."

Finally Cujo settled down, and Cas helped Dean get settled into the passenger seat, his heart breaking as he watched Dean try to hide the amount of pain he was in. He closed the door and walked back to the front door, where Jo was waiting.

Cas stuck his hands in his pockets, watching Cujo leaning over the front seat, resting his head on Dean's shoulder. Dean had his head tilted to rest it on Cujo's. "Thank you for taking him in."

She shrugged, lighting a cigarette. "It was no problem. He was very polite." She smiled.

"Um... how long was he staying with you, by the way?" he asked, glancing at her.

"Just since yesterday."

Cas squinted at her. "Do you know what happened?"

She shook her head, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "No idea. I gave him a ride from Nebraska to Lawrence, like, two months ago, and I gave him my number in case he needed a place to stay. It was really cold, y'know?" She looked down, ashing her cigarette. "I didn't hear from him again until yesterday... I guess someone fucked him up. It was pretty bad... he was still all bloody. Some other girl named Mary found him, and he called me from her car asking if I could pick him up." She paused. "He refused medical treatment, by the way. I think he's only alive because Mary gave him CPR. She, uh... had blood on her face." She gestured towards her mouth.

Cas nodded, looking back to the car. "Sounds like Dean." He sighed and tilted his head. "Mary, you said?" He hadn't heard that name in a while. It wasn't as common anymore.

She nodded. "Yeah, why?"

"Just an odd coincidence," he said. "That was his mother's name."

"That _is_ weird," she said, dropping her cigarette and stomping it out beneath her shoe. "Anyway... I hope you can get him to, um... get some help."

Cas sighed. He wasn't hopeful. "Me too." He turned to her. "Do you want some money? For the gas, or the food-"

"No," she said quickly, holding her hands up dismissively. "It's fine. In fact, aren't you tired?" She paused. "You drove here straight, right? You guys can stay here tonight if you want."

Cas smiled, but shook his head. He really needed to be alone with Dean. "Thank you, but we should definitely head back home. We may get a motel." He pursed his lips. "Thank you again... for helping him. I really appreciate it."

She returned his smile. "You're welcome. Drive safe." She leaned forward and gave him a small, calculated hug, before stepping back and slipping in the door.

Cas got into the car, settling down in the seat and turning to look at Dean. "Do you want to get a motel?" he asked softly.

Dean nodded, turning to look out the window. He didn't want Cas to see he was beginning to cry. He was dreading having to tell Cas about everything he'd done. He wished he could just be happy to have Cas by his side again, and he was, but there was also this persistent fear dogging him that if he told Cas everything, Cas would change his mind. He would decide it was too much- that he hadn't signed up for this.

Cas googled the nearest pet-friendly motel and they were there in fifteen minutes, the ride tense and silent. Neither of them were really sure what to say. Cas went in and paid for the room, returning with the keys to leash up Cujo and grab their bags. He dropped everything on the floor by the door, and Dean made his way towards the bed, gingerly lying down.

Cas unleashed Cujo and he ran to the bed, jumping up and lying down next to Dean, settling his head on Dean's stomach.

Cas stood in the center of the room, ringing his hands awkwardly. "Do you want me to go get something to eat?"

Dean turned his head to look at him, swallowing down the lump in his throat. "No."

Cas slowly walked towards the bed, turning and sitting on the edge of the mattress by Dean's legs. He looked down into his lap and opened his mouth, but he had no clue what to say. Dean reached out and touched his fingers to Cas' thigh. Cas turned to him, reaching over to take his hand. "I missed you so much," he whispered.

"I missed you, too," Dean said hoarsely. He squeezed Cas' hand. "I... I can't even begin to apologize for what I've done, Cas."

Cas squeezed his hand back. "Dean, it's okay. You left, but you're back now. That's what's important."

"It's not just that, Cas, it's what I did... I..." He trailed off, thinking of the amount of people he'd slept with over the last two months. None of those seemed important, though, compared to the first one and the last one. Dean exhaled shakily, reaching up to wipe his eyes. "I wanted to come back as soon as I left."

Cas frowned. "Why didn't you?"

Dean was quiet for a full few minutes, and Cas just stared at him nervously, awaiting what he had to say. "I slept with someone else," Dean finally pushed out, not looking at Cas.

Cas' face fell, and he felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. "You... you left because you cheated on me?" he managed with what little breath was left in his lungs.

"No," Dean said quickly, his eyes flicking to Cas and back away again. "Well, I don't know. I- I feel like I did." He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. "It was the night I left. The _night I fucking left_. But that wasn't why I left, Cas, I swear. I had no intention of- It just... happened." He opened his eyes again.

Cas couldn't hide that he was hurt. "I... I don't understand how sex just _happens_ ," he mumbled, trying to keep his voice even as he stared down at Dean's hand in his own.

"I..." Dean looked away. "I know, Cas... I just... I don't even really remember it." He swallowed, trying to think back. It felt like a lifetime ago. "I'd walked for miles, and finally after midnight I was twenty-one, so I went into a bar. I drank for an hour or two- too much, of course- and she... she offered me a place to stay for the night. We went to her house..." He closed his eyes. "I shot up in her bathroom, and next thing I know she's on top of me on the couch." He still didn't meet Cas' eyes. "I was nodding out... I can't remember much else."

"You were... you were losing consciousness?" Cas asked, and Dean flicked his eyes up to see his expression changing to something Dean couldn't read. Dean nodded, gingerly biting his swollen lower lip.

"Dean," Cas said slowly. "If you couldn't even stay conscious, that was not consensual..." He paused. "That was sexual assault."

Dean scoffed, images of Al on top of him forcing their way to the forefront of his mind, making a girl riding him seem tame. "I don't think so, Cas... I mean... I- I was hard," he mumbled, fresh tears pushing their way out.

"That doesn't mean anything, Dean. Stuff like that is an involuntary response," he said gently.

Dean was quiet, another hazy memory surfacing of Al pressed on top of him, reaching down and jerking him off. _"See? You're rock hard. You like it, you fucking slut."_

Cas must've seen the shift in his expression, because he leaned forward, worried eyes studying Dean. "Dean?"

Dean shifted, rolling onto his side and burying his face into the pillow. "There's... there's more, Cas, but... can you please just lay with me?" he mumbled. He just wanted Cas to hold him for a little while, just in case it ended up being the last time. Cas was way too good for a drug-addicted _hooker_. And that's exactly what he was. Meg could call them _sex workers_ all she wanted, but she was still a hooker, and so was he.

Cas nodded, rising and shedding his trench coat. He dropped it to the floor and walked around to the other side of the bed, his mind racing as he wondered what else Dean had to tell him. Cujo got up to settle at the foot of the mattress, and Cas carefully climbed onto the bed, lying down next to Dean and scooting forward. He draped his arm over Dean's waist, settling his face right behind Dean's neck. He inhaled deeply and sighed. He'd missed this so much.

"Dean..." he murmured. "You don't have to tell me until you're ready. ...But I just want to make sure you know that I am not going to judge you, and I will forgive you."

Dean barely nodded. He was quiet for a moment, until deciding it was now or never. He wanted to get this over with. He didn't want their next million conversations to be awkward confessions and comforting. He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "I was a hooker." He felt Cas stiffen, and he braced himself for Cas to pull his hand away, recoil in disgust.

Cas didn't though. He only sat up a little, trying to peer over at Dean, and whispered, "...What?"

Dean stayed stock still, clenching his jaw and staring off across the room, unable to look at Cas. "I was a hooker, Cas," he repeated. "I let guys fuck me for money."

Cas moved his hand away, and Dean's heart sank, but then Cas placed it on his upper arm. "Dean," he said softly. "I..." He trailed off, unsure of what to say. Finally, he settled on, "It doesn't change the way I see you." Dean didn't turn to face him. "Dean, be honest with me," Cas continued, "What did you think would happen when you told me that?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders a bit. "You would think... I'm disgusting... and want nothing to do with me."

Cas hesitated. "Well... if it makes you feel any better, I wasn't exactly... abstinent... while you were gone."

Dean strained his eyes to look up at him without lifting his head. "Really?"

Cas nodded solemnly. "I even downloaded Grindr."

Dean rolled over a bit. "What the hell is a grinder?"

Cas looked a bit embarrassed. "It's an app... for people to meet up. For anonymous sex."

"Oh," Dean said, looking up to the ceiling. "But... that's different. I..." He closed his eyes and groaned. "I let a dude piss on me, Cas."

Cas tried to hide his grimace, and he was thankful Dean's eyes were closed. He leaned forward and Dean opened his eyes again. Cas placed his hand on Dean's chest, looking into his eyes and seeing shame and embarrassment. "Dean, it's okay," he said softly. "Please, I don't want you to feel guilty, or embarrassed... okay?"

Dean nodded slightly, looking back into Cas' eyes.

The longest twenty seconds passed, and Cas bit his lip into his mouth, knitting his brows together. "Can I kiss you, Dean?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Dean was surprised Cas even wanted to, but he nodded again, and Cas leaned forward more, closing his eyes and gingerly pressing his lips to Dean's. Dean reciprocated, carefully, and before he knew it, Cas was pulling away. Their eyes met, and an unspoken agreement was made to get under the covers. They both got undressed, Cas pushing back and standing at the edge of the bed and Dean lying on his back on the mattress.

Dean was sure Cas noticed the track marks running the length of both of his arms when he removed his hoodie and flannel, but Cas didn't say anything. He leaned forward and helped pull the blanket down from beneath Dean, bringing it back up and laying it over him. He turned off the light and climbed under, wrapping his arm around Dean's stomach and pulling him close. There was just enough light coming in from the window that they could see each other. Dean turned his head to look Cas, and Cas met his eyes.

"I love you so much, Dean," he murmured.

Dean reached his right hand down to place it on the forearm wrapped around his waist. "I love you, too, Cas."

Cas sighed contentedly into Dean's shoulder. He closed his eyes, suddenly feeling a bone-deep tiredness wash over him. "Goodnight."

Dean pressed his lips to the top of his head through his electric blue hair, closing his eyes as well. He just hoped he wouldn't wake up to find this was all a dream. "Night, Cas."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LOVE TO HEAR FROM ALL OF YOU! TELL ME YOUR FEEEEELINGS!


	71. Chapter 71

As exhausted as he was, Cas tossed and turned all evening before finally waking up. He laid still for a long time, listening to Dean breathe, trying to process everything Dean had told him. He was shocked already, and he was also worried about what else Dean could have to tell him. He knew there was more. Cas wanted to know who assaulted him. He wanted to track the bastard down and kill him with his bare hands. He turned his head to look over at Dean's sleeping form, but Dean was on his side, back to him. He observed the light glinting off of a needle on the night stand. Dean must have been awake at some point.

He closed his eyes, picturing Dean when they had first laid in the bed, when he got his first good, long, close-up look at him, and then when Dean had stripped down to his boxers to go to bed. He had plenty of fresh bruises and lacerations, but he also had some older, yellowing bruises scattered across his body, and they hadn't escaped Cas' notice, nor had the track marks, although those were to be expected.

He rolled over, getting out of bed and walking towards the window. It was three am, so the sun still hadn't risen yet, but it had rained while they were asleep. The roads were wet and the signs and streetlights reflected off the water, lighting up the street with color. He looked back to the bed, where Dean was sleeping like a rock, no doubt sleeping off his high. Cas made his way back towards the bed, bending down and picking his trench coat up off the floor. He reached into one of the pockets and pulled out his bag, shooting another quick glance at Dean. He still wasn't moving, so Cas walked towards the small table, sitting down and preparing a line on the surface.

Just as he finished, he heard Dean groan from the bed. He froze, staring at him, and Dean shifted beneath the blanket, grunting. Cas quickly stood up, making his way towards the bed and crouching down in front of him. Dean was curled in on himself, eyebrows knitted together. He let out a soft whimper, then mumbled something.

Cas frowned, slowly reaching out to gently place his fingers on Dean's arm. "Dean-" he started softly.

Dean jerked from his touch, grunting what sounded like a "No!"

Cas straightened up, taking a step back. He knew where this was going. "Dean?" he said cautiously, a little louder.

Dean seemingly didn't hear him, scrunching up his face and jerking beneath the blanket again. "Stop," he whined.

Cas stepped forward again. He couldn't watch this. Bracing himself, he reached out and gripped Dean's shoulder tightly. "Dean!" he yelled.

Dean immediately stiffened, pulling back and gasping. His eyes flew open and he just stared at Cas like a deer in the headlights for a good twenty seconds before blinking and exhaling a ragged breath. " _...Cas?_ "

Cas let his arm fall from his shoulder, giving him a sympathetic look. "Are you okay?"

Dean opened his mouth, then closed it again, slowly licking his bottom lip. Cas could see his eyes welling up in the light coming in the window from the street. "No."

Cas moved so he was sitting next to him, leaning over him and taking his hand. "Dean, please, talk to me. Tell me what happened." He paused. "Who hurt you?"

Dean blinked, and tears rolled down his face to the pillow. He pulled his hand away from Cas' to wipe both of them across his face. "I got my ass kicked. That's all."

Cas pursed his lips. "I know there's more, Dean. You..." He paused. "You have older injuries." Dean swallowed and looked away, and Cas crumpled in on himself, dropping his head onto Dean's chest. "Dean, please," he begged. "No more lying. I- I could have helped you before all of this if you just told me the truth. I..." He sniffled. "I asked you at the party if you were using, and you lied to me. I asked you about the weight you were losing, and you lied and said it was your medication." He paused, then mumbled, "You weren't even taking it."

He felt Dean move his head. "How did you know that?" he asked softly.

Cas still didn't lift his head. "Brit told me," he mumbled. "Just..." He finally lifted his head to look into Dean's eyes, and Dean saw he was crying. "Please... no more lies."

Dean stared back at him. "Yeah," he whispered. "Okay, Cas." He swallowed. "You're right. ...I'm sorry."

Cas lifted his hand to gently touch the pads of his fingers to Dean's cheek. "Now _please_ ," he said, his voice cracking, "Tell me what happened."

Dean closed his eyes and sighed into Cas' touch. "I worked for this guy..." He started. "I did it by myself for a while, but... it was just easier. He always bought a room, so I didn't have to sleep on the street. He bought the dope, so I didn't have to deal with the dealers. All I had to do was..." He trailed off, opening his eyes and looking away, scoffing lightly. "I just had to let people fuck me. And... and I got to get high all day and night. A lot of it I don't even remember." He stopped and swallowed, still not looking at Cas. "Sometimes if I, uh, argued with him about the client... he'd hold me down and give me more." He stopped again, hesitating, before speaking again. "But as soon as they left and I came around again, he beat the shit out of me."

He finally looked to Cas, and the pain he saw there made him want to heave himself off a bridge. He shouldn't be dumping all of this shit onto him; it wasn't right. It wasn't Cas' problem.

"Dean..." Cas said softly. "I'm so sorry." He paused. "Is... is there more?"

Dean closed his eyes, still facing away from him. "Yes," he sighed. "After three weeks, I tried to leave. Walked out and didn't look back. But, uh... he found me walking alone." He decided to skip over the part where Al threatened to pay Cas a visit. "Basically... he dragged me into the woods, and, uh..." He trailed off, getting choked up. This made his already sore throat hurt even more. He gritted his teeth. He just had to get it out. He was almost done. "He tried to kill me," he pushed out, his voice cracking. He looked at Cas and gestured towards his neck. "Choked me out and shot me up with a bunch of dope to make it look like an OD," he mumbled, then exhaled a shaky breath. "Woke up to some girl over top of me. Guess she gave me CPR."

"Mary," Cas supplied.

Dean nodded slightly, looking away again, fresh tears spilling over. "Yeah."

Cas lowered his head back onto his chest, reaching up to run his fingers through Dean's hair. His fingers grazed the wound lurking beneath Dean's hairline, and he flinched. "Sorry," Cas murmured quickly, pulling his hand away. "Dean, I... I can't even begin to imagine what you've gone through."

Dean huffed a sigh. "Don't stress over it, Cas. It's my own fault. I... I put myself in that situation."

Cas' head shot up and he stared straight into Dean's eyes. "Dean, don't say that. You can put yourself in any situation you want to, but it doesn't give anybody the right to treat you that way. What he did was wrong."

Dean nodded, but he didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything. The room was quiet for a moment, until he mumbled, "What time is it?"

"Three-thirty."

"I'm sorry I woke you."

"I was awake."

"...Why?"

Cas lifted his head to look at him. "We went to sleep at like five last night... We've been asleep for ten hours."

"Oh." Dean paused, clearly thinking, before asking, "Do you want to get on the road?"

Cas straightened up and shrugged. "If you want to. There's no rush."

Dean nodded. "Maybe in a few hours." He paused, and he was clearly debating saying something. Finally, "Cas... I really hope you don't hate me for asking this."

Cas frowned. "Dean... you know I will never hate you."

Dean smiled sadly, but it quickly fell, and he looked up to the ceiling to avoid looking at Cas. "Do you think, on the way home... we could stop at Crowley's?"

Cas nodded. "Yes," he answered softly. He knew he couldn't expect Dean to get clean on the spot, just because he was back with Cas; that was impossible, and just _being_ with Cas had never been able to stop him from using before, anyway. He was also well aware of how hypocritical he would be if he got upset about it.

Dean turned to look at him, and he was crying again. "I'm sorry," he choked out.

Cas gave him a sympathetic look. "Dean, it's okay. Please, stop crying, alright? It will be okay. I promise." He stood up, walking around to the other side of the bed. "Look, I'm going to come lay with you, okay?"

Dean nodded and Cas crawled back under the covers. He scooted up next to Dean and brought his arm up over his chest to drag his fingers along his jawline. "I will never let anyone hurt you, Dean," he said softly.

Dean reached up and took his hand, squeezing his fingers. "I know, Cas." He sniffled and swallowed. "I owe you my life."

"You don't owe me anything, Dean," he murmured.

Dean let go of his fingers and was quiet for a few minutes, and Cas thought he may have fallen asleep, but then he sighed. "Cas, can I ask you something?"

"Of course, Dean."

"We didn't talk for weeks... what made you call me?"

Cas sighed, stroking the slight stubble on Dean's cheek. "I wanted to call you, but... Dean, I really thought you left because you just didn't want to be with me anymore."

Dean frowned, reaching up to wrap his fingers around Cas' again. "I don't ever want to leave you, Cas. I don't ever want to be with anybody else for as long as I live. And even after that."

Cas smiled sadly. "I had a nightmare."

"About me?"

"Yes. It was very... odd."

Dean was quiet for a few seconds, before asking, "What happened?"

Cas hesitated. "It's dumb."

"No, Cas," Dean said gently. "It's not dumb."

Cas sighed again. "I rescued you... from Hell."

Dean stiffened beneath him. "...What?"

Cas sat up a bit, looking down at him with a frown. "I told you it was dumb-"

"No," Dean said quickly, staring into Cas' eyes. "It's just... wow, I... I had the same dream," he stammered in disbelief.

Cas furrowed his brows. "What? When?"

"The- the morning you called me," Dean said, his voice faltering. "I-" He stopped and took a deep breath. "I thought it was some kind of hallucination. I- I thought I was dying." He paused and looked down. "And I was... but then that girl gave me CPR. You... you were taking me towards this light, and I came to with the sun shining down on my face."

Cas was just staring at him with this bewildered look on his face. "Are... are you serious?"

Dean looked up to meet his eyes. "Yes."

"I... I don't know what to make of this," Cas said quickly, looking down at Dean's chest.

"Yeah... same," Dean said softly. "It's really weird."

They were quiet again for about a minute, until Cas softly asked, "What did I look like?"

Dean was a bit confused by the question. "What?"

"In the dream." He paused. "I felt... different. Like I wasn't a person. Like I was-"

"An angel," Dean interrupted. "I think you were an angel."

Cas lifted his head again. "So what did I look like?"

Dean paused, clearly thinking back. "Well... you. But older. And you had these wings..." He swallowed. "They were huge. And black. With some metallic blue." Cas thought about this for a minute, until Dean spoke again, his voice small and unsure. "Cas... do you believe in reincarnation?"

Cas pursed his lips, looking to Dean's face. The answer was no, but he wanted Dean to feel comfortable sharing. "Do you?"

Dean was looking away. "No... but sometimes I wonder if I did something in a past life to deserve everything that's happened." He paused, tearing up again. "What if I did something really bad, Cas, and I was supposed to burn for it? And I didn't, and now I have to live like this?" He felt like he was living in Hell on Earth, he really did, and there had to be a reason _why_.

"Dean," Cas soothed. "Don't say that. We can get you help. You don't _have_ to live like this." He paused, studying Dean. "Weren't you feeling better on the medication?"

Dean barely shrugged. It seemed like a lifetime ago. "I guess."

"There are different ones, too... you just need to find out which ones work for you."

"Fuck, Cas, it's just too hard," he ground out, finally starting to cry. "I'm not strong enough." He felt like such a pussy. He couldn't even hold control over his body long enough to clean up his act. It was just so much easier to bury everything with dope and booze than actually face it.

"Dean, I know you can do it," Cas said softly. Dean didn't respond, and Cas laid his head back down. "We'll talk about it another time, okay?"

Dean nodded slightly, wrapping his arm around Cas' and settling his hand on his shoulder. A few minutes passed, and Cas could tell he'd fallen asleep, but he laid awake, his thoughts racing (and his heart, thanks to the rail of coke). In a few hours, they had to go get Dean more heroin, and then go home. He knew soon he would need to convince Dean to get help. He couldn't just wean him off again with his medication like last time. Based on what Dean had told him, he most likely now had a massive tolerance, and Cas didn't want to think about how many pills Dean would need to keep withdrawal at bay. The more he thought about it, though, the more he realized it didn't even matter, because that's not what Dean wanted. If it was just about making it through withdrawal, he would go to rehab. They would wean him off with methadone or Suboxone.

What it really came down to was chasing the high he got from shooting dope, because it took him farther from what he was trying to escape from, and Cas understood that now better than he ever had before. Until Dean dealt with his illness and the trauma he'd been through for nearly his entire life, he was _never_ going to get clean.

* * *

Cas was dressed at six-thirty. The sound of kibble hitting the metal bowl woke Dean, who slowly pushed himself up, squinting into the light. He blearily looked around the room until his eyes fixed on Cas.

"Good morning," Cas said with a smile.

"Morning," Dean mumbled. He pushed himself out of the bed and limped his way to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Cas heard the shower start up, so he waited for Cujo to finish eating, then leashed him up and took him for a quick walk. When they returned, he occupied the time with a game of tug-o-war until Dean emerged from the bathroom in only a towel. He sat on the bed and leaned over, digging around in his bag before pulling out some clothes. Cas watched as Dean stood up and dropped his towel, pulling on a pair of boxers, followed by jeans, and then sitting back down to pull on and button up his flannel.

"Do you feel a little bit better?" Cas asked carefully from where he was sitting on the floor, reaching forward to pet Cujo's head, the other occupied with tightly gripping the toy as Cujo tried to yank it from his hand.

Dean nodded slowly. "A little."

"Are you hungry?"

While the thought of food didn't sound appetizing, Dean's stomach was growling. He gripped the edge of the mattress. "Not really."

Cas pursed his lips, letting go of Cujo's toy. "You need to eat, Dean," he said softly.

Dean knew it was true. He was weak before, but he hadn't eaten anything since the bacon and eggs at Jo's nearly two days ago and he was getting weaker. At this rate, his physical injuries would never heal.

"Maybe just water," he mumbled, lowering his head.

Cas nodded. "Let's go then, and we'll get you some. Not sure if I trust motel water."

Dean smiled a little. "Okay." They packed up what little they had and piled into the car. Cas drove to the grocery store, and when he pulled into a spot, Dean frowned at the building. "This isn't necessary, Cas, we can get a cup of water at a drive-thru."

"I know. But we have a long drive and I don't think I can do it all again in one shot." He glanced at Dean. "So I'm going to go in and get some stuff. You can stay here with Cujo if you want, okay?"

Dean nodded, staring at the building through the passenger side window.

Cas reached over and took his hand, giving it a light squeeze. "I'll be right back." He paused. "You'll still be here, right?"

Dean noticed the change in his voice. He was scared. Dean turned to him. "Yes, Cas... I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

Cas smiled weakly, taking his hand back from Dean's. "Okay. I'll be right back." He pushed the door open and got out, closing it behind him and hurrying across the parking lot.

Dean stayed on high alert, sliding down in his seat a little and looking around to be sure no one was approaching. Al could be anywhere by now, and they weren't that far from Fort Scott. Al had found him walking before, why couldn't he find him again? Time seemed to drag on forever until finally, thirty minutes later, Cas returned, pushing a cart. There wasn't much in it, maybe two or three bags, but he'd also gotten a case of bottled water. He rounded the car and popped the trunk, unloading the bags. When he returned, he dropped down into the drivers seat with a bag of chips, two bottles of water, and another bottle Dean couldn't identify.

He dropped the chips and water onto the seat and held out the third bottle to Dean. "It's a shake. I, uh... I'm not sure why you're refusing food, but you need nutrients."

Dean took it, staring down at it and dragging his thumb across the label, reading the words _Carnation Breakfast Essentials_. It was chocolate. "Thank you, Cas," he mumbled, before cracking it open and chugging it. When he lowered the bottle, Cas was smiling at him.

"Was it good?" Dean licked his lips and nodded, looking down and reaching for the bottle of water. Cas turned to face forward, jamming the keys in the ignition and starting the car. "It came in a six-pack, so there's more in the trunk. Let me know if you want another one."

Dean nodded, reaching forward to tune the radio away from static. The one good thing about being in Kansas was that he knew the radio stations. He reached the classic rock station, and Tom Petty's voice filled the car.

_Well I started out down a dirty road, started out all alone_   
_And the sun went down as I crossed the hill, a_ _nd the town lit up, the world got still_

A smile spread across Cas' face. "I love Tom Petty."

Dean smiled back at him. "I know you do."

_I'm learning to fly, but I ain't got wings_   
_Coming down is the hardest thing_

Cas rolled the window down and lit two cigarettes, holding one out to Dean. "Thank you," Dean said, taking it from him and taking a greedy drag.

_Well the good ol' days may not return,  
_ _and the rocks might melt and the sea may burn  
_ _I'm learning to fly, but I ain't got wings  
_ _Coming down is the hardest thing_

Cas smiled. "You're welcome." He put the car in reverse and backed out of the spot, craning his neck to see behind him.

_Well some say life will beat you down, break your heart, steal your crown_   
_So I've started out for god knows where, I guess I'll know when I get there_

Dean leaned his head against the inside of the door, looking out the window as they pulled onto the street. He still couldn't believe he was sitting in the Impala with Cas. So many times over the last two months, he thought he would never have this again, and now here he was. If Cas could, after all this, still not give up on him, then maybe, just maybe, he could learn to do the same for himself.

_I'm learning to fly, around the clouds,  
but what goes up must come down  
_   
_I'm learning to fly, but I ain't got wings_   
_Coming down is the hardest thing_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs used:  
> [Tom Petty - Learning to Fly (1991)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s5BJXwNeKsQ)


	72. Chapter 72

They were just picking up speed on the highway when Cas cleared his throat. "So, um... are you going to call Crowley?"

Dean looked startled, then started fumbling for his phone. "Yeah." He located it in his jacket pocket (Jo had done a great job of removing the blood stains, by the way), and dialed Crowley. It rang three times before he answered.

"Squirrel! How _are_ you?"

Dean furrowed his brows, confused by the question. "You care?" he asked, and it wasn't sarcasm, it was genuine disbelief.

Crowley sighed into the phone. "You certainly are thick, aren't you?" He paused. "Why are you calling?"

Dean hesitated, chewing his lip. "I think that's obvious."

Crowley didn't miss a beat. "How long until you arrive?"

"Forty five minutes?" Dean guessed.

"See you then." _Click_.

Dean lowered the phone, looking over to Cas. Suddenly it dawned on him that he should probably tell Cas that he didn't have any money. He cleared his throat. "Um... Cas?"

Cas glanced over at him briefly before looking back to the road. "Yes?"

"I, uh..." Dean looked down at his hands, turning his phone over in them. "I don't have any money."

Cas pursed his lips. "I figured as much."

Dean continued staring down at his lap. "I'm sorry." He wanted to tell Cas that he _had_ money, but Al stole it, but before he could open his mouth again, Cas spoke.

"Dean-" Cas cut himself off with a sigh. "It's okay. Please stop apologizing." He glanced over again, and Dean still looked upset. He huffed another sigh, this one through his nose. "What do you think I expected? For you to be clean? Have a job?"

Dean looked up to stare out the window at the landscape whizzing by. "No."

Cas' shoulders drooped a little. "I will always take you as you are, Dean," he said softly. Dean nodded but didn't say anything in response, continuing to stare out the window. A few minutes passed, as Cas kept glancing at Dean, observing his slumped posture. Finally he broke the silence. "Can I ask why you're sitting like that? ...Doesn't it hurt your back?"

Dean momentarily tensed, before shrugging. He looked over to Cas. "It feels better like this, actually. ...My back." He looked down, immediately feeling guilty. He'd told Cas he wouldn't lie anymore, but he just wasn't ready to tell him yet. He wasn't sure if he ever would be. He told himself that once his physical injuries healed, he could just forget it had happened at all.

Cas nodded slowly. "Speaking of that... Do you think maybe you should, uh... get checked out? At a hospital?"

"No... I'll be fine." Dean paused. "I can walk, so..."

"Back injuries don't work that way," Cas said quietly.

Dean was pretty sure his back was fine, but he'd just told Cas otherwise, hadn't he? "It's okay, Cas, really. I swear."

Cas pursed his lips, but didn't say anything, and silence fell between them until they pulled up to Crowley's. It was early March and still early on in the day, so it was cool enough that Cas felt comfortable rolling up the windows and locking Cujo in the car. He would be fine for ten minutes. They climbed the stairs until they came to Crowley's front door, and Dean raised a shaky hand to knock.

Crowley opened the door quickly, as usual, and he couldn't hide his shock at the sight of Dean. Then his eyes moved to Cas, and he quirked the corner of his mouth up into a small smile. "Well, this is certainly not what I was expecting," he quipped, backing up and opening the door wider.

They entered the apartment as Crowley strolled over towards the couch, leaning forward to pick up a bottle of scotch from the table. He unscrewed the cap and poured a generous amount into an empty glass sitting atop table, as he looked up at the boys. "Drink?"

Cas shook his head, but Dean nodded. Crowley produced a second glass from somewhere (under the coffee table?), filling that one as well before capping the bottle and setting it back down. He held out the glass and Dean quickly closed the gap between them, taking it and gulping it down eagerly as Cas watched him with a frown.

"You know," Crowley said, looking down into the liquid he was slowly swirling in the glass, "I never thought I would see the two of you together on my doorstep again." He looked up and smirked. "Just like old times," he said wistfully. "Quite romantic, actually. ...Back together, back to see the hometown dealer." They didn't respond, so he raised his eyebrows and took a sip from the glass. "So, Squirrel," he continued, looking to Dean, "Going to enlighten me about what happened to your face? ...And your neck? I didn't take you for the kinky type."

"That's not funny," Cas snapped, and Crowley turned to him in surprise.

"Cas," Dean said softly, and it was a warning. Cas didn't understand, but he took the hint, shooting Crowley another narrow-eyed glance before crossing his arms and looking away. Dean looked back to Crowley, then down at his hands, fiddling with his empty glass. "Got mixed up with the wrong people, y'know?" he muttered, shrugging.

Crowley swallowed another sip of scotch and sucked some air through his teeth. "I do." He brought his glass to his lips and drained the remaining liquid. "So what can I get for you boys?"

Dean opened his mouth and closed it again. "I don't know," he finally said. "It's up to Cas."

Crowley looked to Cas expectantly, and Cas looked down and shrugged. "Get yourself enough to get home," he said flatly.

.

"Pleasure doing business with you, boys," Crowley crooned, closing the door behind them. They descended the stairs, and once they'd gotten into the car, Cas couldn't hold it in anymore.

"What was that about?"

Dean turned his head to him. "What?"

"With Crowley."

"Oh," Dean said softly, looking out the window. He shrugged. "When I first came through Lawrence again, he, uh... He let me take a shower at his place. And he gave me a ride out of state."

"Oh," Cas mumbled. "I see." He turned the key in the ignition, and the Impala roared to life. He heard rustling, and he turned to see Dean already mixing up a shot. "Jesus, Dean," he grumbled, looking around quickly to make sure no one was around. "You really couldn't wait?"

"For what?" Dean paused, not looking up from his task. "Where is an appropriate place to do this?"

Cas frowned. "Fair point." He paused, watching Dean. "Do you want to see Sam while we're here?"

Dean looked up briefly, as if he hadn't thought about that, before looking back down at what he was doing. "Yes... but not with my face like this." He paused. "I- I'd rather him not know... what happened."

Cas nodded. "Okay."

* * *

Cas drove for another thirteen hours, and finally around nine-thirty they stopped in Rock Springs, Wyoming to get another motel for the night. Dean had slept on and off for most of the ride, so Cas had managed to use without him noticing, but once they arrived at the hotel, Dean seemed awake and alert.

Cas fed Cujo dinner, and as he leashed him up, Dean asked from the bed, "Can I come?"

Cas raised an eyebrow at him. "Of course, Dean, but... aren't you tired?" He paused. _He_ certainly was. "And hurt?"

Dean shrugged, looking away. "It's been like three days, and I've been doing nothing but sleep. I mean, I usually sleep all day anyway but I'm also usually up all night." He raised his eyes to look at Cas. "So... I'm not really tired."

"Okay. Yes, I would like it if you accompanied us."

They locked up the room and started slowly down the street. Cas had trained Cujo to walk on his left side, so he should've been between them, as Dean was walking on the left, but Cujo kept trying to step behind Dean to get to _his_ left side.

"I think you should take him," Cas said, reaching around to bump Dean's left elbow with the hand he held the leash with. Dean reached back and took the leash, and Cujo stayed with him until they reached some grass. As he sniffed around, Dean stared down at him.

"He got big," he finally said quietly. Cas nodded. "I missed him a lot." Cas smiled sadly, and Dean lifted and turned his head to look at him. "And you."

Cas smiled a little bigger. "I missed you, too, Dean. ...You have no idea." Cujo finished up and Cas picked it up, throwing the tied baggie into a trash can they passed on their way back to the room. Inside, Dean laid back on the bed and threw the ball to the door for Cujo to fetch as Cas tried to find something on the little TV.

Finally he found an old black and white movie and disappeared into the bathroom. When he returned, he laid back next to Dean on the bed. Dean threw the ball one last time, rolling over onto his side and wrapping his arm around his waist. He buried his face into his neck, deeply inhaling the scent of _Cas_. As much as he didn't want to be touched over the last two months, now that he was with Cas again, he craved intimacy; not sex, but _intimacy_. "Thank you for letting me back into your life, Cas. You didn't have to," he murmured.

"I wanted to," Cas said distractedly. He was too busy being suddenly filled with confusion over Dean's comment. Did Dean think Cas didn't want to actually _be_ with him anymore, and he was taking him back as a friend, to help him? And if so, is that what Dean _wanted_ , or just what he was expecting?

"What's wrong?"

"What?" Cas said quickly, his eyes flicking away from the TV to glance down at Dean.

Dean shrugged his shoulders a bit, his face still buried in Cas' shoulder. "I dunno, you got all stiff and sweaty. And, uh... your heart's beating really fast."

"Oh." Cas knew it was the line he'd sniffed in the bathroom to keep himself awake long enough to spend some time with Dean before he passed out, but Dean was right, there was also something wrong. "Well..." He trailed off and sighed. As much as he didn't want to talk about it, as much as he wanted to just pretend everything was the way it was before, it had to be discussed. "I'm not really sure where our relationship stands."

Dean quickly lifted his head to look at Cas. "W- what? What d'you mean?"

"You sent me a text saying that maybe we could talk but I had to move on," Cas said quickly. "I'm just not sure if that still stands and we are returning to California simply as best friends again... and roommates."

Dean stared at him for a few seconds, taken aback, before shaking his head. "No..." He stopped and stared at Cas again. "Unless that's what you want. I mean- I don't know..." He looked down. "Did you..." He pulled his arm from Cas' waist, worry and embarrassment growing in his chest. "Are you with someone else now?"

"No," Cas blurted out. "And yes, that is what I want. I just didn't know if it's what _you_ wanted."

"No, of course," Dean said quickly, moving his arm back and lowering his head again. "I'm never gonna leave you again, Cas, for as long as I live," he said into his shoulder. "I swear."

Cas closed his eyes and sighed, his heart still stuttering in his chest. "I love you, Dean."

"I love you too, Cas," he mumbled, pressing his warm lips to Cas' neck.

Immediately Cas' dick twitched to life, and he closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. _Not now. That's the last thing Dean would want right now._ But Dean's warm breath on his neck was stirring something in him, and the coke wasn't helping. Eventually he had to reach down to adjust himself in his boxers, and he hoped Dean didn't hear the little sigh that escaped his lips at the action. Dean still had his arm around his waist, so he knew Dean knew he was doing something, but he easily could have just been scratching himself.

But when he removed his hand, Dean moved his down, lightly cupping Cas through his underwear. Cas' breath caught in his throat and his hips twitched, but he bit down on his lip to resist the urge to thrust up for more friction. He heard Dean huff a small laugh into his shoulder as he pressed his hand down, palming Cas through his boxers.

Cas reached down and gently wrapped his fingers around Dean's wrist. "Dean, you don't have to do this," he breathed, struggling to keep his voice even.

"I want to," Dean said into his shoulder.

Cas released Dean's wrist, resting his hand on his stomach. "But... are you sure? You just spent two months doing nothing but that, are you sure you want to-"

"I only did that for like a month," Dean interrupted, his voice muffled into Cas' shoulder. "But this is fine right now, okay? I want to." He paused, removing his hand and placing it on Cas' thigh. "Unless you don't want me to. I'll stop."

"No, I do. It's just- I don't want you to feel obligated." Cas brought his hand back up to fold his arm behind his head.

Dean didn't respond, grabbing the waist of Cas' boxers and yanking down. Cas lifted his hips a bit to help, and Dean pulled them half-way down his thighs before placing his hand on his dick again. He dragged his lips along Cas' neck as he gently palmed him beneath the blanket. Cas groaned, shifting a bit, and Dean took him in his hand, lightly stroking as he kissed his neck.

"Damn," Cas sighed. "I missed this- _you_ \- so fucking much," he breathed, closing his eyes.

"Me too." Dean continued dragging his mouth along Cas' neck, up to his jawline, ghosting his breath along his ear. He tightened his grip on his cock, quickening his strokes. Cas groaned and bucked his hips, thrusting up into his fist, and Dean smiled against his neck, picking up the pace as he felt pre-come dripping onto his thumb.

Cas inhaled sharply, his body tingling and covered with sweat. Fuck, sex on coke was the absolute best. He felt his dick twitching and before he even had time to warn Dean, Dean had popped up like toast, throwing the blanket off and leaning forward as far as possible, angling Cas so that he came straight into his mouth.

Cas watched the whole thing with wide eyes, barely breathing, until he had to let his head fall back at the sight of Dean's adam apple bobbing as he swallowed. Quickly, though, he resumed breathing and immediately began to feel guilty. The way Dean was facing, he got an eye full of the fucked up side of Dean's face, and of course the choke bruises.

Dean released him and laid back, resuming his position against Cas' side. "You didn't have to do that," Cas breathed, chest rising and falling rapidly.

"You said that already," Dean said into his neck.

"I meant, uh..."

"Swallow?" Dean supplied. "I wanted to. It's okay." He paused, before saying so quietly that Cas almost didn't hear, "I missed the way you taste."

Cas swallowed, still trying to return his breathing to normal. "Fuck, Dean," he said, scoffing a laugh. "You're going to make me hard again." Dean smiled to himself, tightening his grip around Cas' waist. They sat in silence for a while, Dean turning his head a bit to see the TV. Soon the coke was wearing off and Cas' eyelids were getting heavy. "Dean... I'm tired."

Dean looked up at him. "So go to sleep."

"I want to spend this time with you," Cas murmured sleepily.

"I'm not going anywhere, Cas. There will be plenty of time for that." He lifted his head and Cas turned his to meet him for a chaste kiss. "Now sleep."

"Okay," Cas mumbled, scooting down a bit farther in the bed and closing his eyes. "Goodnight." Dean murmured a goodnight in response and Cas was asleep within minutes, leaving Dean awake alone. Even Cujo was asleep on the floor by Dean's side of the bed. After a few minutes, Dean rolled over and huffed a sigh, standing up and stepping over Cujo to get his gear out of his bag and prepare a shot. He'd ride it for a while and hopefully fall asleep, and then he could wake up in the morning and try to re-adapt to a normal sleeping schedule.

Once he was finished, he stumbled over to the window by the door and opened it, breathing in the cool night air and lighting a cigarette. He leaned down on the windowsill for a while, swaying slightly and thinking back on the last few days. While most of his last day with Al he wanted to forget, he couldn't stop thinking about him and Cas having the same nightmare. It was way too weird. He'd never believed in reincarnation, but now he didn't really know what to believe. It certainly hadn't escaped his notice that the blonde girl named Mary who had saved his life was a teenager, and his mother had died seventeen years ago.

Finally, he'd smoked four cigarettes and was no closer to any kind of answer or explanation, so he decided it was time to go to bed. He settled back beneath the covers with Cas, breathing in his scent and thinking about how lucky he was. The rest of his life might be shit, and things might go wrong at _every single turn_ , but ever since he was fourteen, there had been one constant in his life- Cas.

And he was damn lucky for that.

* * *

They were both up by five-thirty and on the road an hour later. They had another thirteen hours to go, but Cas was confident they could make it home by eight pm if they kept their stops at the gas stations quick, although at each stop, he did make sure to make time to sneak off into the bathroom.

Seven hours in, Dean asked if he could drive the rest of the way. Cas looked at him skeptically. "Are you... alert enough for that?"

Dean frowned. "I'm not high, if that's what you're asking. That last one wore off already." He looked out the window, ringing his hands in his lap. "I just miss driving."

Cas nodded. "Of course you can drive." They were passing through some small Nevada town called Carlin, and he immediately pulled over into the dirt along the side of the road. He exited the car and Dean slid over, running his fingers along the wheel and sighing as Cas came around the other side of the car and dropped into the seat.

"I missed you," Dean murmured, then he yanked down on the shifter, putting her into drive and pulling back out onto the road. He quickly picked up speed, fiddling with the radio and finding a classic rock station. Soon he heard Cas mumbling the words next to him, so he joined in, and forty-five minutes later, they were practically belting Led Zeppelin when Dean noticed a car flying up behind them.

His eyes flitted up to the rear view mirror, and his heart leapt into his throat. "Fuck," he hissed. "It's a cop." Cas glanced in the side mirror and frowned. He opened his mouth to speak but Dean cut him off. "I was speeding."

"We're in the middle of nowhere, Dean, I'm pretty sure everyone speeds down this road. It's okay." As soon as the last two words left his mouth, the cop flicked his lights on. Cas gritted his teeth. "Fuck."

"Yeah, fuck is right," Dean said quickly, flicking his blinker on and pulling over towards the side. Cas reached into his trench coat pocket, balling something in his fist, leaning back in the seat, and shoving it down his pants. Dean caught it out of the corner of his eye. "What the fuck was that?" he squeaked.

"Weed," Cas lied. "All your shit is in your bag right?"

"Yes," he whispered, panic rising in his gut. The car lurched to a halt, and Cas observed Dean tightening his grip on the steering wheel until his knuckles blanched white. After what seemed like forever, the cop opened his door and began strolling towards the car. Dean rolled down the window, trying desperately to keep his breathing under control.

"License and r- _whoa_! What the hell happened to your face, son?"

Dean turned to look at the cop, giving him an uneasy smile. "Got my ass handed to me, sir."

" _Hmph_. I can see that." He paused, leaning forward to see into the car. "Where are you boys headed?"

"California," Dean said quickly.

"What's in California?"

"We- we live there," he stammered.

The cop nodded. "So, what brings you through Nevada?"

"We were visiting family in Kansas," Cas supplied.

The cop's eyes flicked to him, and Cas swallowed nervously. These people were trained to tell when someone was under the influence of drugs, and while Cas wasn't the one driving, the cop only needed to be suspicious to justify searching the car. He turned back to Dean. "License?"

Dean nodded, lifting his hips up a bit in his seat to pull his wallet from his back pocket. He pulled his license out, his hands shaking a bit, and handed it to the cop, who stared down at it before looking up to Dean. "Are you okay?"

"Uh..." Dean huffed out a nervous laugh. "Yeah."

The cop frowned. "Why don't you step out of the car?"

"Y- yeah," Dean mumbled, reaching down to unbuckle his seat belt. "Sure." Cas watched as he slowly exited the car, closing the door behind him.

"Turn around and put your hands on the roof for me."

"Fuck," Dean choked out. "Am I under arrest?"

"Well that depends," the cop said slowly. " _Should_ you be under arrest?"

"No," Dean said quickly, although that was a lie. He began racking up the charges in his head- speeding, driving under the influence (technically, if they tested him, it would still be in his system), possession, criminal possession of a hypodermic instrument- Jesus, if he was caught, he'd just admitted he was carrying drugs across state lines. He had his unregistered _handgun_ in his duffel bag. He was fucked.

"So why are you so worked up?" the officer pressed.

"He has PTSD and an anxiety disorder," came Cas' voice from the car. Dean dropped his head in embarrassment, and he could see Cujo intensely staring at him through the window.

The cop nodded. "I'm going to search you. If you're clean, you've got nothing to worry about." He placed his hands on either side of Dean's rib cage, and Dean visibly tensed. "Relax, son." All he could think about as the officer moved his hands down Dean's sides was Al telling him to relax _every time_ he initiated sex that Dean never wanted. He clenched his fists, digging his nails into his palms to keep him grounded in the present. The officer's hands moved down his hips, down his thighs, and then he was coming back up, his hand grazing between Dean's legs.

Dean jumped, and the officer pulled his hands away. "You can get back in the car."

Dean couldn't even breathe a sigh of relief, he was so worked up. He opened the door and slid back in, breathing heavily, and the officer handed him his license, peering at him from beneath his hat. "Have a nice day." He paused. "And slow down." Dean nodded furiously.

"Maybe I should drive," Cas said as the officer retreated back to his car. "We only have six hours left."

"Yeah," Dean croaked.

"Go lay in the back with Cujo."

"Wha- Why?"

"Just do it." He paused, glancing in the side mirror. "Once the cop pulls away." He opened his door and got out, walking around the front of the car and opening Dean's door. "Slide over." Dean slid over and Cas took his place as the cop backed up, pulled a U-turn, and took off. Dean opened his door and got in the back, and immediately Cujo was on top of him, licking his face.

"Cujo, stop!" Dean gasped, trying to push him off.

Cas hit the gas, pulling back out into the road and picking up speed. "I told you to lay back," he said into the rear view. "And don't push him off."

Dean was still desperately trying to keep the lid on his panic attack, so he didn't argue. He laid back and immediately Cujo was lying with his full weight on top of him, gently licking his face. The tightness in his chest began loosening, and as he stroked Cujo's fur, his breathing slowly returned to normal. He was quiet for about ten minutes, until he sat up and peered suspiciously at Cas. "Did you teach him to do that?"

"Yes," Cas said, not turning around. "It's called DPT and uses pressure points to reduce your stress levels. It seems like it worked."

"Yeah, it usually takes me a lot longer than that to, uh... come out of it." He paused. "You still taught him while I was gone? Why?"

Cas shrugged. "In case you came back. I knew you would need him," he said nonchalantly. "And he likes having a job to do."

Dean smiled, turning to Cujo and rubbing his ears. "What a good boy," he murmured. Cas couldn't help but smile to himself. It was going to be a long road, but they'd get there.


	73. Chapter 73

_Spent my days with a woman unkind, smoked my stuff and drank all my wine_   
_Made up my mind to make a new start, going to California with an aching in my heart_   
_Someone told me there's a girl out there with love in her eyes and flowers in her hair_   
_Took my chances on a big jet plane, never let 'em tell you that they're all the same_   
_The sea was red and the sky was grey, I wondered how tomorrow could ever follow today_   
_The mountains and the canyons started to tremble and shake as the children of the sun began to awake_

_Watch out_   
_Seems that the wrath of the gods got a punch on the nose and it started to flow- I think I might be sinking_   
_Throw me a line, if I reach it in time, I'll meet you up there where the path runs straight and high-_

Suddenly a loud static filled the car, and Dean, who had been resting with his head against the window, nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Sorry," Cas said quickly, reaching out to turn the radio off. "My iPod died."

Dean nodded and peered out the window. They were already on the bridge, which meant they would be home in less than forty-five minutes. He couldn't wait to sit on the couch and watch TV with Cas, and throw the ball for Cujo in the yard, sleep in _their_ bed, and pretend the last two months never happened. He was daydreaming out the window when a car passed them that was identical to Al's. Dean's heart stopped for a moment until he realized this particular car didn't have a spot of rust, so it _couldn't_ be Al's.

The brief moment of terror got him thinking, though. He'd refused medical treatment so there wouldn't be a fuss over it and Al would think he was dead, but what if Al knew something was up _because_ there was no fuss made? He'd left Dean pretty close to that dirt road. Surely a dead body would've made the paper, and what if he'd been checking, waiting for a report to surface? What if he'd gone back a few hours later to creep on the crime scene, and Dean was gone? If that was the case, he'd know for sure that Dean survived.

His chest began constricting and he felt like the air had been punched out of his lungs. What if Al was waiting for him at the house? He frantically rolled down the window to get some air and hopefully hide his panicked noises from Cas. He felt Cujo rest his head on his shoulder, and he reached a shaky hand up to scratch his neck as Cujo gently licked his face. It helped a bit, but Cujo wasn't fully lying on him, so all it really did was keep him from spilling over.

Finally they turned onto their road, and he bent down to dig his handgun out of the hidden compartment in his bag. He stuffed his hand into his jacket, waiting until they pulled up to the house. It looked just as it did when he left, and he wanted to feel warm and fuzzy inside, but he was too terrified; terrified that they would walk in and Al would be waiting, and he would hurt Cas or Cujo.

Before Cas had even come to a complete stop, Dean leapt out of the car. "Stay here," he said over his shoulder.

"What? Why?" Cas asked, peering out the windshield as Dean crossed in front of the car and stalked towards the house. He paused when he realized not a single light was on, backing up to the car again. He didn't take his eyes off the house, holding his hand out at Cas' window.

"Keys."

Cas frowned, but he rolled up the windows and shut off the car. He stepped out and handed the keys to Dean, raising an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

"Just wait here," Dean muttered, moving towards the house again. Cas crossed his arms and leaned back against the car, observing Dean. Dean unlocked the front door as quietly as possible, pulling the gun from his jacket as he stepped over the threshold. He reached up next to him to flick on the lights and was relieved to find no one in the living room. He slowly made his way towards the kitchen, peeking around the island. Again, no one. He checked the cabinets under the sink before walking into the bedroom. He turned on the light and it looked just as he remembered. He smiled a little before checking under the bed and in the closet. Still no one. The bathroom, shower, and linen closet were all empty as well. He checked the back door, and it was locked from the inside, and all of the windows were, too. Finally he breathed a sigh of relief and lowered his gun, making his way back outside.

He gave Cas a nod. Cas turned around and opened the back door, and Cujo flew out of the vehicle, zooming around the yard like a maniac as Cas grabbed their bags. Dean went over and locked the car and took his bag from Cas, and they headed in the door together with Cujo at their heels.

Cujo immediately jumped up on the couch, looking to the boys and letting out a single, loud bark. Cas chuckled softly. "I think he's happy to be home."

Dean turned to him and gave him a small smile. "I know the feeling." He dropped his bag by the couch and breathed a long sigh. "I think I'm gonna shower."

Cas nodded, eyeballing the gun in Dean's hand. "Sure." Dean walked off into the bathroom, and Cas made his way into the bedroom with his and Cujo's bags. He dropped them to the floor inside the doorway and looked toward the bed. More often than not over the last two months, he had slept in that bed alone, and he couldn't wait to sleep _together_ again in _their_ bed. Suddenly, he remembered that only a few hours prior to him leaving, he and Rich had had sex in that very same bed. He instantly ripped the sheets off and shoved them into the washing machine, replacing them with clean sheets, pillowcases, and a blanket. He felt like it would be really wrong to lay down with Dean on sheets he'd fucked somebody else on.

He got undressed and sat on the edge of the mattress, waiting for Dean to finish in the shower. He had to find a way to bring up what he'd done while Dean was gone, right? He thought maybe he should wait for Dean to ask. He knew Cas had slept around, but would it make a difference if he knew one of those guys was their friend? When Dean entered the bedroom in only a towel, Cas went in to take a shower himself. When he finished, he came back into the bedroom to see Dean dressed in an old tee shirt and pair of pajama pants he hadn't seen since Dean first moved in with him in Kansas. He must have looked puzzled, although he certainly hadn't meant to, because Dean looked away and shrugged.

"Everything else is too big."

Cas nodded as he made his way towards the dresser. His own clothes were getting looser, so he definitely understood what Dean was talking about. He pulled on a pair of flannel pajama pants and an old tee shirt before leaving to feed Cujo in the kitchen. Dean heard him take Cujo out back to potty, and he immediately stood up and left the bedroom to hover behind Cas in the doorway. When Cujo came back in and Cas turned around, he found himself face-to-face with Dean.

"You scared me," he said, laughing nervously, and his eyes traveled down to the gun in Dean's hand. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Dean said quickly. "I just want to make sure you lock the door."

"Of course, Dean," Cas assured him, reaching behind him to turn the bolt lock. "I always lock the door."

"I know. I just wanted to be sure."

"Are you alright?" Cas asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dean swallowed. "Yeah."

"Dean... you're safe here," Cas said gently. _No, I'm not_ , Dean wanted to yell. _You're not._ But all he could do was nod. How could he tell Cas that he had put him in danger? Cas studied him for a moment. "We should get some ointment on your wounds."

Dean nodded as Cas walked past him and went back into the bathroom, rummaging around the medicine cabinet. He sat down on the couch and set the gun on the coffee table. When Cas returned, he set the bandages and ointment on the coffee table before going to the kitchen sink to wash his hands. He returned to the couch, sitting down next to Dean and turning to face him, causing their knees to bump up against each other. He squirted a small glob of antibacterial ointment onto his finger, dabbing it onto the wound on Dean's eyebrow.

Dean closed his eyes, leaning into the touch, although it stung slightly. It had been five days, and his wounds were healing already, but he figured the ointment would help with scarring, and he knew Cas wanted to take care of him. As Cas spread a thin layer of ointment on the spot where the baseball bat had connected with his skull, he winced, and Cas pulled his hand away.

"Sorry."

Dean opened his eyes. "It's okay." He paused. "You know what this reminds me of?" Cas just tilted his head, so Dean continued. "That time in tenth grade when those assholes jumped you and I had to clean you up."

Cas smiled sadly at the memory. "Yes, I really appreciated that." He reached up again and smeared a small amount of ointment onto the cut on Dean's lip.

"It was the least I could do. ...I should've been with you."

Cas frowned. "Your life didn't revolve around me, Dean."

Dean mimicked his frown, looking away. "Yeah, but I should've been walking you home instead of worrying about getting laid."

"You weren't _worried about getting laid_. Lisa was your girlfriend."

"Yeah... Except after I cleaned you up... all I wanted to do was grab your face... and kiss you." He looked up to meet Cas' eyes, swallowing down the lump in his throat. "It hurt so bad seeing you all fucked up and crying, Cas, you have no idea."

Cas brought his hand up to cup Dean's face, giving him a mixed look of sympathy and amusement. "I think I do."

Dean smiled, and Cas leaned forward. Dean leaned in to meet him and their lips met for a brief kiss before Cas pulled away, making a disgusted face. "That stuff tastes disgusting."

Dean stuck his tongue out to lick his bottom lip, matching Cas' face with his own at the unpleasant taste of the ointment. "Yeah it does."

Cas smiled. "How does sleep sound?"

"Good."

Cas stood up and walked towards the bedroom, and Dean grabbed his gun before following him in. Cas hit the light and they climbed into bed, Dean lying out on his back and Cas cuddling up next to him. They murmured and kissed their goodnights, and Cas was again asleep within minutes.

Dean laid awake in the dark, staring up at the ceiling and listening to Cas breathe. So, Al wasn't here. Great, but what was to say that he wouldn't show up? Maybe he was waiting because no one was home, and now that the Impala was in the driveway, he would drive by and know someone was back. Dean waited a few more minutes to be sure Cas was asleep before untangling himself from his limbs and grabbing his gun from the nightstand. He padded out into the living room and sat on the couch in the dark, setting it on the coffee table.

He spent the next several hours in and out of fight-or-flight mode, jumping at the sound of every car that passed as Cujo tried to lay all over him. Eventually his internal battle of _I need to use or I'll get dopesick_ versus _I can't fall asleep_ declared a winner and he had to use again. He grew even more paranoid that he would nod out on the couch and wake up to Cas screaming. He desperately tried to stay awake, but realized he'd fallen asleep when he heard his name being called with urgency.

He awoke with a start, looking around wildly and reaching for the gun. "What?" His eyes came to a stop on Cas, who was standing in the hallway, tilting his head and squinting at him in the dark.

"What are you doing? It's four am."

"I..." Dean looked down at his gun, running his thumb over the cool metal. _You told Cas you wouldn't lie anymore._ He let out a long sigh. "I'm just worried, Cas."

Cas sighed sadly and began walking towards the couch. He lowered himself onto the cushion beside Dean, reaching out to gently touch his arm. "About what?"

Dean looked away, feeling foolish. "Him finding me. ...And hurting you," he added quietly.

Cas took a moment to respond. "I really don't think he will find you here... okay?" He paused, leaning forward in an attempt to see Dean's face. "And you know Cujo will bark if someone's here. ...And you have your gun."

Dean nodded slowly, staring down at the gun in his hands. If only he had kept it on his person instead of in his bag, he could've blown Al's fucking head off that day in the woods. He vowed to never make the mistake of being without it again.

"If it will make you feel better, we can install a security system. And I can even train Cujo to check the house when we come home." Dean nodded again. "Come to bed, okay?"

"Yeah," Dean mumbled. "Just... hold on." Cas watched as he got up and double-checked the lock on the door and the locks on the windows before standing nervously in the center of the room. "Okay." He followed Cas into the bedroom and checked the window in there before finally setting his gun down on his night stand and lying down next to Cas. This time, he wrapped his arms around Cas, slotting their hips together as they laid side-by-side and nuzzling his face into the back of his neck. "Thanks for putting up with me," he mumbled.

"I don't _put up with you_ ," Cas replied sleepily. "I love you. ...Now try to get some sleep." He felt Dean nod into his neck.

"I love you, too."

* * *

Dean awoke to the smell of food. He laid in bed for a few minutes, in shock that he was home. A few times while he was gone, he'd dreamed he was home, but now, instead of waking up in an alley or behind a bush or in some shitty motel room, he really _was_ home. He heard Cas singing in the kitchen and he smiled to himself. His stomach grumbled and he realized he should probably eat something. He was so hungry, and he'd finished all of the shakes. He didn't want Cas to leave him alone to go to the store, and he also didn't want to leave the house. He snorted a small bump to fend off withdrawal and made his way into the kitchen.

Cas was standing at the stove. He turned around when he heard Dean behind him. "Morning," he said cheerfully, sporting a large smile. "Are you hungry? I'm making French toast."

Dean smiled back. "I could eat. It's the best when it's made by a true Frenchman."

Cas snorted a laugh, turning back to the stove. "I would hardly consider myself a 'true Frenchman'."

Dean sidled up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist. "True enough for me." He pressed a kiss to the back of his neck.

Cas piled a third slice of toast onto a plate on the counter and picked it up, turning in Dean's arms. "Here."

Dean let go of his waist and took the plate. "Thank you."

Cas joined him at the island and they ate breakfast in relative silence, each just enjoying each other's presence. Dean finished two pieces of toast before pushing his plate away and lighting a cigarette.

"So, um..." He cleared his throat. "How's school?"

Cas stared at him blankly for a moment, mouth full, before resuming chewing. He swallowed and cleared his throat. "I dropped out."

Dean's eyes widened. "What? W-" He cut himself off at the _why_. He knew full well why. "Cas," he started again, "you have to go back. I'm sorry I-"

"It had nothing to do with you," Cas interrupted, looking down at his plate. "But I did a lot of thinking while you were gone. I didn't want to be a dental assistant anyway, you know that," he said dismissively. "I just had no idea what else to do."

"But..." Dean trailed off, unsure of what to say. "So... what do you want to do?"

Cas looked up to meet his eyes. "I don't know."

"So you just dropped out? But won't your parents- I mean, they're paying for all this because you're going to school, right?" he asked, gesturing towards, well, everything. Cas nodded, taking another bite of his breakfast. "I don't understand- they're cool with this?"

"I haven't told them," he said nonchalantly around a mouthful of food.

"You don't think they're gonna be pissed?" Dean questioned, raising an eyebrow at Cas.

Cas shrugged, staring down at his food. "I don't really care."

Dean furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "Where is this coming from?"

Cas swallowed his last bite of food, pushing his plate away. "I really don't think they give a crap what I do, Dean. Honestly."

"Well... Well, I do," Dean said quietly. He couldn't stand the thought of Cas wasting his potential. "There's got to be something you want to do."

Cas pondered Dean's comment for a moment, looking away and squinting thoughtfully. He looked back to Dean and smiled. "I would like to train dogs."

Dean nodded. "Okay. You should do that. I can get on board with that." He paused. "You've done a really good job with Cujo."

Cas smiled. "Thank you. I really enjoy working with him." He stood up and collected their plates, turning around and depositing them in the sink. He turned back around, placing his hands on the edge of the counter and leaning back. "What would you like to do today?"

Dean shrugged sheepishly. "Stay here... although I do need to see Craig." He looked away.

Cas nodded. "Do we need to go now?"

"No," Dean said quietly. He still had some left. He looked up at Cas. "Later is fine."

Cas stared at him for a moment, and Dean wished he could tell what he was thinking. Another moment passed before Dean realized Cas was zoning out. Cas sniffled, and it sounded like liquid, like a runny nose, and Dean noticed a bit dripping from Cas' left nostril.

"Uhh, Cas?" Cas blinked and seemed to re-focus on Dean, but the liquid didn't stop coming, and Dean realized with alarm that it was red. "Cas, you- you're bleeding," he said quickly.

Cas' eyebrows knitted up into confusion and he reached up to wipe his nose along the back of his hand. He looked down at the blood smear. "Well shit," he mumbled. _I guess the left nostril is off-limits for a while._

"W- what do we do? Are you feeling okay?" Dean asked frantically.

"I feel fine," Cas said, flashing Dean a grin. "It's just a nosebleed." He reached for a roll of paper towels on the counter, ripping one off and holding it beneath his nostril.

"Yeah, but..." Dean gaped. "You don't usually get random nosebleeds just standing there. Well, I mean, I guess some people do, but you don't." He paused, horror overtaking his face. "What if you have a brain tumor?"

"Dean, calm down," Cas said calmly, twisting up the paper towel and shoving it up his left nostril. "It was probably just the dry air from driving through the desert." It kind of disturbed him how easy it was to lie. It was not something he'd ever really done before, and he felt guilty knowing Dean would find out eventually anyway, but he also didn't want to have that argument- not now.

Dean thought that 'dry desert air' wouldn't give Cas a nose bleed after they'd been home for at least twelve hours already, and San Francisco was nothing if not _moist_ , but he didn't say anything. He observed Cas dabbing at his nose until the bleeding stopped, and then he tossed the paper towel into the garbage can and washed his hands. He turned back around and held his hands out at his sides. "See? All better."

Dean nodded slowly as Cas closed the distance between them, leaning forward to press their lips together. When he pulled back, he looked into Dean's eyes. "Let's watch a movie." Dean nodded again and Cas started walking off towards the bathroom. "Pick one out and I'll be right back."

Dean was just removing the DVD from the case when Cas emerged from the bathroom, making a bee-line for the sink and beginning to wash the dishes. Dean sat back on the couch and stared at the DVD menu for about three minutes until he finally whined that the dishes could wait. Cas agreed and came back over to the couch, plopping down and leaning into Dean. Dean wrapped his arm around him and Cas rested his head on his chest. Dean started the movie, but it only took about ten minutes for him to pause it again.

Cas looked up at him. "Why did you pause it?"

"What the hell is up with you?" Dean asked, looking down at him.

Cas pushed himself off of Dean into a sitting position. "What do you mean?"

Dean eyed him suspiciously. "You won't stop fidgeting and you're sweaty as fuck. Seriously, what's going on?"

Cas looked away, fumbling with his fingers in his lap and licking his lip nervously. He looked to Dean again, who was staring at him expectantly. _I told Dean not to lie to me anymore... How can I sit here and lie? Especially about this... Dean will understand._ He swallowed and took a deep breath, still looking away. "I may be... using cocaine." He trailed off, mumbling the last part, and when he hesitantly looked up at Dean, he looked confused.

"What?"

Cas didn't look away this time. "Coke," he reiterated. He worried his lip.

"You..." Dean trailed off and his eyes widened. "You're doing blow?"

Cas nodded sheepishly. Dean stared at him in shock for a good thirty seconds before turning back to the TV and reaching for the remote. "Aren't you going to say anything?" Cas asked quietly.

Dean turned to him, and he looked defeated. "There's really nothing I can say, Cas." He frowned. "I understand, I really do, and what could I say that wouldn't make me a huge hypocrite?" Cas barely shrugged, and Dean continued. "I'm just really worried now... After that nosebleed."

"It's fine," Cas said quickly. "It'll heal."

Dean studied him for a moment. "You should get clean before you get out of control, Cas." He kept staring, and suddenly he looked ten times more upset. "Is this... Is this my fault?" he asked suddenly.

"No," Cas said immediately. "I started before you left. It was supposed to be to help me study, but... you know."

Dean leaned back into the couch with the remote, staring at the paused TV. He thought back to November and December, when he'd started using again and avoiding Cas because of it. He remembered Cas confronting him, and them spending more time together in late December and January. He remembered Cas obsessively cleaning, being way perkier than normal, clenching his jaw. He remembered noticing how tired Cas looked, how he'd lost some weight and his hands were shaking. None of those things had changed since Cas had come to pick him up. He suddenly felt like an absolute piece of shit for not putting it all together. _He_ of all people should've been able to see the signs, but he was too busy wallowing in self-pity and getting high.

He turned to Cas, who was staring at him. "I'm sorry."

Cas looked genuinely confused. "For what?"

"Everything. Quitting my medication, losing my job, relapsing, _leaving_. Making you worry for two months that I was dead somewhere." He paused. "Not noticing that something was going on with you." Cas looked down. "I was too focused on my own bullshit," Dean continued. "But I promise I'm going to start paying more attention to you, okay?" _No more living in my own head._

Cas nodded slowly, still looking down at his lap, and Dean un-paused the movie. He lifted up his arm and expectantly looked to Cas, who leaned forward again to resume their cuddling position. He took Cas' chin in his hand and tilted his head up to meet him for a kiss. Cas absentmindedly placed a hand on Dean's stomach, but there was nothing there, not anymore, so instead he slid his arm around his waist and settled to watch the movie.

After the movie, they found themselves making out again. "Cas," Dean murmured, lowering his head onto his shoulder. "Can we have sex?"

Cas stilled, pulling back and looking at Dean. "You want to?"

"Yes," Dean said quickly. "I just..." He looked down. "...don't want to bottom. For a while." Cas nodded. He figured that was pretty much all Dean did while he was working on the street. "I mean..." Dean trailed off, thinking to the night he watched Meg work. "I want to top, but I want you to _be_ on top. If that makes sense."

Cas stared at him for a moment. "You want me to ride you."

Dean's face flushed, the red a stark contrast to his yellowing bruises, and he ducked his head. "Yes."

Cas smiled. He imagined snorting a fat rail and riding a blissed-out (probably high) Dean for hours as they both came multiple times. A shudder ran through him and his dick immediately began to swell between his legs. He quickly stood up, grabbing Dean's hand and tugging him off the couch. "Come on."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, chapter was getting too long. You'll have to wait for the smut!
> 
> Songs used:  
> [Led Zeppelin - Going to California](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7IZ-jATBq9A)


	74. Chapter 74

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try to include a decent amount of drug-induced smut before they get their goddamn acts together.
> 
> Also, if you're into the smutty parts, I think my smut sucks so if you liked it let me know, and if you didn't, please tell me whyyyyy so I can improve. thank youuu

Dean followed him into the bedroom, immediately sitting down and going through his bag for his gear. He felt guilty, he really did, and while he was mostly excited to be with Cas again, he was also nervous, like it was their first time all over again. He kept his back to Cas, preparing his shot, until he heard Cas sniffling deeply behind him. He turned around to see Cas kneeling in front of his nightstand, head back and palm pressed to his forehead. Cas opened his eyes and froze, staring at Dean with wide eyes as he lowered his hand. Dean swore he could literally see his pupils expanding.

"What?" Cas sniffled. "If we're both doing drugs what's the point in hiding it?"

Dean stared at him for a moment more before blinking slowly and giving his head a small shake. "No, no, you're... you're totally right." He turned back to his task, finding a suitable spot and pressing the tip of the needle in. As he pushed down on the plunger, he felt the mattress sink, and Cas was on his knees behind him, breathing on his neck and pressing a few soft kisses to the skin there.

"Hurry up."

Dean nodded and withdrew the needle, setting it down on the night stand and twisting around to lay back. Cas swung one leg over, straddling Dean's thighs, and reached down to yank his shirt off over his head. Dean settled back into the mattress, starting to relax as the drug coursed through his veins. Cas leaned down over him, pressing kisses to his neck and collarbone as he rubbed Dean's chest with the hand that wasn't supporting his weight, dragging his thumb back and forth across his nipple.

Dean closed his eyes and craned his neck back, letting out a long sigh. He'd missed this so, so much. Most of his clients didn't really want to touch him- they just wanted to fuck him fast and hard and be done with it. Cas lifted his head to press a few sloppy kisses to Dean's mouth before leaning back and pulling his pajama pants and boxers down in one movement. He tossed them to the floor and pulled his own shirt off, tossing that as well. Dean watched through hooded lids as Cas backed off the bed, bending down to open the bottom drawer of his nightstand. He pulled out a condom, turning back to Dean and fiddling with it in his hands. "I just, uh..." He trailed off, looking down at the foil wrapper in his hands.

"I understand," Dean mumbled. He suddenly felt gross. _You're crawling with disease. Why he would even want you inside him is beyond me._

Cas smiled weakly, setting the condom down on the night stand along with a small bottle of lube. "So- um- we should probably also get you tested."

Dean nodded, looking away. "Okay." While the fact Cas even _had_ condoms was a bitter reminder that he'd been with other men while Dean was gone (since they had never used them), Dean knew he couldn't be upset about it. It was his own fault for leaving, and at least Cas had been safe, which was more than he could say for himself.

There had been more than one occasion where Al accepted more money for bareback. It shouldn't have been his call to make, but Al did whatever he wanted, and Dean did whatever Al wanted- end of story. While he was pretty sure he'd never shared needles, even that he couldn't _actually_ be sure of, especially not with Al being the one providing them. He also wasn't stupid enough to believe Al would've used protection when he forced himself on him, either. There was a high chance he'd contracted something, and he knew it, which was the only reason he'd given Cas a hand job in the motel room instead of just straight-out sucking his dick.

"You should play with yourself," Cas breathed.

Dean pushed the thoughts away and turned his head to see Cas standing at the foot of the bed, sans pants and underwear, fingers twitching at his sides. Before Dean could stop himself, he heard himself saying, "You don't think I'm gross?"

Cas' eyes, which had been roaming over Dean's body, moved back to his face. "No. You can see for yourself if you like," he said, glancing down at and gesturing to his slowly-hardening cock. He looked back up at Dean. "Besides, this is what condoms are for."

Dean swallowed down the lump in his throat and nodded, laying his head back on the pillow and closing his eyes. He slowly reached down to take himself in his hand, biting his lip into his mouth. He was still soft, and the high dulled everything, but after a minute or two of gentle stroking, he could feel himself filling in his hand. He opened one eye to look at Cas, who was watching him greedily as his own dick steadily rose between his legs.

Dean closed his eye again and focused on the task at hand. He hadn't touched himself in, fuck, probably two and a half months, and it felt _good_. With Cas watching, he found himself fully hard way faster than was usual while he was doped up. He let out a little sigh, and opened his eyes and turned his head again to see Cas with one knee on the bed, fist wrapped around his cock, stroking slowly. He watched Dean intently, lips parted and breathing shallow.

"C'mere," Dean murmured, and Cas reached behind him for the lube before surging forward and settling down on Dean's thighs. He thrust the lube into Dean's hands, and Dean stared down at it for a moment before looking back up at Cas. "But... You got to watch me," he pouted.

A sloppy grin quickly spread across Cas' face. "You want a show?"

Dean's lips parted as he sucked in a breath. He nodded, handing the lube back to Cas and watching as he popped the cap open and drizzled a decent amount onto his right index and middle finger. He lifted his hips up so that he was kneeling over Dean, taking a shaky breath and reaching behind him. Normally he would be a bit embarrassed about this, but in addition to euphoria and stamina, coke gave a hell of a lot of confidence, too. He closed his eyes and pressed his index finger in, letting out a long, wavering sigh.

Dean watched as Cas' face flushed, the color spreading down his neck and to his chest, as his cock bobbed in front of him. A bit of precome dribbled from the slit, and Dean reached forward to gently take him in his hand, smearing it around with his thumb. Cas thrust into him slightly and moaned, and Dean observed him scrunch his face for a split second as he most likely inserted a second finger.

Dean began stroking him softly, bringing his left hand up to rest it on Cas' creamy thigh. He let his eyes trail from Cas' cock, up his stomach, to his face, where Cas had bit his lip into his mouth. "Fuck, Cas, you're so pretty."

Cas let out a strangled whimper, his lip popping out from between his teeth, and swallowed hard. "Put- put the condom on."

Dean nodded and reached over for the condom on the night stand, tearing it open and fumbling to pull it down over his dick. Cas took himself in his free hand, tugging gently as he continued to work himself open. Finally Dean rolled it all the way down to the base, and he laid his head back down. "Okay," he breathed.

Cas let go of his dick and reached for the lube next to them on the bed, popping the cap open and squirting a bit onto the condom. He clicked the lid closed again and tossed it to the side, planting that same hand on the bed. His other hand re-appeared to grab a hold of Dean and stroke roughly a few times. Dean closed his eyes and sighed, hips twitching up a bit into Cas' fist.

Cas let go and leaned back slightly, placing both hands on Dean's stomach as he lifted his hips and slowly lowered himself onto Dean's cock. As the head breached the outer ring of muscle, they both gasped, Cas stilling and closing his eyes before lowering himself the rest of the way.

They both froze for a moment, Dean enjoying the warmth of being in Cas, and Cas adjusting to being filled by Dean. Finally, Cas rolled his hips, and Dean emitted a low moan. Cas dropped forward to lay over Dean, lowering his head as he rolled his hips again. His dick, trapped between them, throbbed, and then he was clenching around Dean, gritting his teeth as he came onto their stomachs.

"Holy shit, Cas," Dean gasped. "Already?"

"Yes," Cas grunted, head buried in Dean's shoulder. "The first... of many."

Dean let out a laugh, reaching up to wrap an arm around Cas' shoulders. "I'll only have one, but... it'll be a while." He enjoyed Cas panting against his skin for a minute before snapping his hips up into him. Cas shot up, arching his back and crying out, and he was hardening again already. He pushed himself the rest of the way up, grinding his hips down again, and Dean gasped, jaw slack. He looked up and placed both hands on Cas' hips, pressing his thumbs in and snapping his hips again as he held Cas' in place.

Cas threw his head back. "Oh my god," he moaned up at the ceiling. Dean continued to hold his hips in place, thrusting into him repeatedly as Cas' head bobbed up and down with the force. Dean would've jerked him off, too, but he wasn't sure if he had the strength or muscle coordination while high to pull it off. He didn't have to, though, because after a few minutes, Cas wrapped his own fingers around his once again fully-erect cock and began tugging roughly.

Dean must have become distracted by the view because eventually Cas opened his eyes and looked down at him. "Keep going."

Dean jump started his pace as best he could, and within seconds, Cas had angled himself upwards and was coming onto his stomach and chest.

Dean reached up slowly to swipe his fingers through the mess on Cas' stomach. He locked eyes with Cas as he brought his fingers back to his mouth, pushing them in and removing them clean. Cas choked out a sob, collapsing forward onto Dean's chest.

"Holy shit Cas," Dean said again.

"I know," Cas panted against his shoulder. "I've still got... one more... I think... But it's your turn."

Dean nodded and remained still, waiting for Cas to recover and take the lead. A minute or two passed before Cas pushed himself up again. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before snapping his hips back.

"Ughh," Dean ground out, screwing his eyes shut and tilting his head back further into the pillow. He felt Cas leaning backwards, placing his hands on Dean's upper thighs. Cas rolled his hips backwards again, choking out a whimper as his dick slowly swelled again. It took longer this time, but as he hit his prostate repeatedly from the new angle, his dick got with the program again. He picked up his pace, slamming himself down onto Dean, panting heavily and emitting delightful little noises that drove Dean crazy.

Dean looked up at him, digging his fingers into his hips and gritting his teeth as his dick twitched inside of a bouncing Cas. He felt his stomach tightening, although it was dulled, and he swore his skin was on fucking fire. He tossed his head back and choked out a gasp, his cock throbbing as his orgasm slammed out of him and into the condom. Cas simultaneously came a third time, a moan rising from his throat as his bouncing dick dispersed his load all over Dean's face and neck, and into his open mouth.

Cas swung his head forward and opened his eyes, and they widened at the sight of Dean. "I- I'm sorry, I-" Cas stammered.

Dean swallowed what was in his mouth and broke into a grin, reaching up to wipe his eye. "'S fine," he chuckled. He stuck his tongue out to get what he could off his lips. "More than fine."

Cas' expression turned to relief and he tilted his head back again, closing his eyes and exhaling a sharp breath. Dean watched his chest rise and fall as he tried to catch his breath. Finally he leaned forward and collapsed onto Dean, the drying come on his chest and the sweat from both of them combining to create a rather uncomfortable mess, but neither of them cared. Dean wrapped his arm around Cas as Cas nuzzled into his neck.

"Fuck, Dean," Cas ground out, gasping for air. "I love you so fucking much. Please... don't ever leave me again." He choked down more air. "Please." He knew he sounded needy and pathetic, but he was riding too high from the coke and three orgasms to even care.

"I won't," Dean murmured, lifting his hand to smooth it over the hair on the back of Cas' head and pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "I promise, Cas, I'm not going anywhere ever again."

* * *

It was a little too easy to fall back into a routine after that, although Cas felt like he was constantly walking on eggshells. He was afraid if he was too pushy, Dean would leave again, so he fell into the role of exactly what he told Dean he wouldn't be- an enabler.

The first time they visited Craig, he gave them a weird look before commenting that he didn't know they knew each other. Cas had looked down at the floor, and instead of explain everything, he told a half-truth. "We were hiding it from each other." Craig had looked amused before shaking his head and getting down to business.

At first, Dean had begged Cas not to leave him alone, but he refused to leave the house unless it was to go to Craig's, and then he would spend ten minutes checking and re-checking the house when they arrived home. Eventually, the paranoia that Al would show up subsided slightly as a week went by without incident.

"I'm going to invite Rich over," Cas said nonchalantly. They were on the couch watching TV, Cas sitting normally and Dean stretched out on his back, head in Cas' lap and legs propped up over the arm rest.

"Okay..." Dean said quietly. He had his eyes closed, enjoying the feel of Cas' fingers running through his hair.

"Is that okay?"

Dean opened his eyes and focused them on Cas. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Cas felt his face getting warm. He shrugged. If Dean noticed, he didn't say anything about it, instead looking to the TV and electing for, "I just..." He trailed off and sighed. "He must think I'm a real piece of shit for what I did to you." He looked back to Cas, meeting his gaze. "And he would be right."

Cas frowned down at him. "You're not a piece of shit, Dean," he huffed. "I hate hearing you talk about yourself that way." Dean looked away, towards the TV again, but not at it. "And he doesn't think you're a piece of shit. He knows what's going on with you."

Dean turned back to him and frowned. "Wait... what?"

"That you're mentally ill."

Dean cringed. He hated when Cas said that, and he hated when Cas told people. "I hate when you do that."

Cas tilted his head. "Do what?"

"Say I'm mentally ill like it's some kind of free pass for me to treat you like shit," Dean grumbled.

"Dean, that's not what I-" he started, trying to backtrack, but cut himself off. "I just want people to understand that you try, Dean," he said quietly. "Okay?"

Dean closed his eyes again. "Yeah. ...Tell him to come over."

Cas shifted beneath him to pull his phone from his pocket, opening a text to Rich. _'Hey, do you want to come over?'_

_'sure... how's Dean?'_

_'...better. Just don't mention his face. It's mostly healed, but you can still tell.'_

_'right. i can come over in like an hour. i just got home from work. gotta shower'_

_'Alright, no rush. We'll be here.'_ He reached over Dean to set his phone down on the coffee table and resumed carding his fingers through Dean's hair.

True to his word, Rich was knocking on the front door an hour later. Cas let him in, and he made his way over towards the couch.

"Hey," he said, taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch from Dean. Cas hadn't been joking- he could still see the brownish-yellow of the fading bruises, including around his neck (although Cas hadn't mentioned that), and the scabbed over cuts on his face. It had been nearly two weeks since Cas had left to pick Dean up, so they must have looked pretty gnarly when it first happened.

Dean smiled weakly. "Hey. ...How you been?"

Rich shrugged. "Alright. Yourself?"

"Been better," Dean mumbled.

Rich nodded solemnly. It was awkward at best, but Dean didn't seem to be mad at him, so that was good. Cas, who had disappeared into the bedroom, re-emerged with the bong and a bag of weed. He sat down between Dean and Rich, leaning forward to break up some weed on the table. They smoked, talked, and watched TV for a few hours.

"So," Rich said suddenly, tossing Cujo's toy across the living room, "I've been thinking about getting a dog."

"Yeah?" Dean piped up.

"Yeah," Rich confirmed from where he sat on the floor, reaching up to pet Cujo's head as he returned to him with the toy. "House is kind of lonely now without my dad."

Dean's eyes widened. "Oh, shit- I didn't- I'm sorry, man," Dean stammered. "I didn't even know."

Rich smiled weakly. "It's alright. He's not suffering anymore, so..." He looked back to Cujo. "But the house is empty and I'm getting pretty lonely, so I thought I would get a dog." He paused. "But I don't know anything about dogs. Maybe you guys could help me?" He looked to Cas. "Would you help me train him?"

Cas smiled. "Of course." He observed Rich petting Cujo. "Do you know what kind of dog you want?"

Rich shrugged, pushing himself up from the floor. "Definitely not a working breed like Cujo. Too much energy, and they have to be okay with being home alone while I work." He moved towards the coffee table and squatted down, breaking up a nug from his own bag and packing it into the bowl.

"Hmm... maybe you should adopt an older dog," Cas suggested as Rich took a hit off the bowl.

"Good idea," Rich said as he exhaled, filling the space between the three of them with thick, white smoke. "Maybe I'll go down to the shelter this weekend." He stood up and sat back down next to Cas, handing him the bowl to hit and pass to Dean.

Eventually it was getting late, and Rich had to go home and get some sleep. He stood up to put his jacket back on and awkwardly stood by the coffee table. "I'll catch you guys later." He paused, his eyes lingering on Cas for a split second before turning to Dean. "It was good to see you again, man."

"You too," Dean said with a nod.

Cas reached over to gently touch Dean's arm. "I'm going to walk him out."

Dean looked to him and nodded. "Okay." Cas stood up and walked Rich out the front door, closing it behind him. Before he could open his mouth, Rich turned around.

"He doesn't seem too bothered by it, huh?"

Cas looked away, scratching the back of his neck distractedly. "I actually, uh... haven't told him."

Rich looked at him in disbelief. "What? Why?"

"I just couldn't find the right time. It came up that I, uh... slept with other people, but..." He looked up. "It wasn't the right time to bring up that one of them was you." He frowned.

"Well... are you going to?" Rich asked hesitantly.

Cas shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not sure how to bring it up, honestly." He paused. "I mean... does it even matter though?"

Rich raised an eyebrow. "I guess not."

They were quiet for a moment until Cas sighed. "I'll talk to you later. Drive safe."

Rich nodded, looking down at his keys as he fumbled with them between his fingers, before turning and briskly walking off towards his truck. Cas turned around and opened the door, only to find himself face-to-face with Dean, who was standing there with his arms crossed. Cas opened his mouth but Dean spoke before he could.

"So... you and Rich?"

Cas stared at him blankly for a moment, trying to get a read on his emotions. He didn't seem angry, but he seemed _something_ , and Cas couldn't figure out what it was. "Um... yes," he mumbled, stepping closer to Dean so that he could close the door behind him.

Dean uncrossed his arms and they fell to his sides. "So... what? I come back and you just dump him?" He paused. "That's not right."

Cas' gave him another blank stare before furrowing his eyebrows together. "What?" That was certainly _not_ what he was expecting Dean to say.

Dean frowned, slumping a little bit. "That's not really fair to him... is it?"

"Well, no, but..." Cas sighed and pushed past him, heading towards the couch. "It wasn't like that," he said over his shoulder. He plopped down on the couch and Dean quickly followed, doing the same. "Besides," Cas continued, "That's all you're concerned about? You're not angry that I didn't tell you?"

"I know why you didn't tell me. You didn't want me to hate Rich, but-"

"I didn't think you would," Cas interrupted. "I just didn't know how to bring it up." He studied Dean for a brief moment before continuing. "And like I said, it wasn't like that. We weren't-" He raised his fingers to make air quotes. "-together."

"Why?" Dean pressed. "I know he's liked you since we moved here." Cas looked surprised. "I could tell," Dean explained, shrugging.

Cas slumped back into the couch and looked down at his lap. "I don't know. I was kind of confused, and I wasn't ready for another relationship. And... part of me was still hoping you'd come back- even though once a month had gone by, I wasn't hopeful- so I didn't want to get into a relationship and then leave him. Because you're right, that wouldn't have been right. And I didn't want to use him, either, so I laid it on the line. I told him we could be closer, but that it was more of a friends-with-benefits kind of thing. He was okay with that." He sighed. "Some days I was sure you would be back, and other days I felt like a fool for thinking that. For thinking that you would just show up on our doorstep again and everything would go back to normal." He looked over to Dean and paused for a moment. "So... you're not mad?"

"Not at all," Dean said quietly. "Actually, when I left, at the time... I was kind of hoping you would," he made a vague hand gesture with his hand, "be with Rich?" He shrugged. "He's normal, and stable, and that's what you deserve, so..." He frowned. "I was really sure that I was doing you a favor, Cas."

Cas frowned. "I don't want anybody but you, Dean. ...I was just lonely while you were gone."

Dean gave a small nod and Cas inched over and leaned forward, wrapping his arms around his ribs and lying his head on his chest. Dean wrapped his arms around Cas as well, dropping his head to place a kiss on the top of Cas' head. "I know. And I can never say enough how sorry I am."

Cas sighed into his shirt. "It's okay. I forgive you."


	75. Chapter 75

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: next few chapters will be some filler until our final major plot point. remember that they're both on drugs and dean is quite unstable, so while there will be some fluff, there's also going to be some fighting as well :\
> 
> (next chapter will be more fluff than this one)

"Dean, you need to get out of the house- _I_ need to get out of the house- and we're out of milk." Dean didn't respond, and Cas sighed. "I'm not ordering groceries again. It's ridiculous, and I'm going stir-crazy stuck here. We haven't left the house except to go to Craig's in the two weeks you've been home, and I'm not going to let you become agoraphobic."

Dean still didn't want to be left alone, but he felt bad for Cas, and he didn't want to admit that he didn't know what agoraphobic even meant. "Fine," he huffed. It wasn't even about not leaving the house, it was about the house being empty- what if Al showed up? What if he was there when they returned home?

"I trained Cujo for this, okay? He will help you. He's trained to block so people don't get too close, and when he alerts to your anxiety and does DPT? He'll do that anywhere, Dean."

"Yeah, because a dog lying on me in the grocery store won't attract a lot of attention," Dean mumbled, still curled up on the bed and facing away from Cas. "Besides, they aren't even gonna let me in the door."

"Of course they will."

"How do you know that?"

"Because it's the law, and I took him myself, when I was training him. I had to train him to do all the things he does at home, in public."

Dean rolled over to face him. "Okay," he resigned. He knew Cas worked hard to train Cujo, and he didn't want it to be for nothing.

Cas smiled. "It's not required he wear one, but I have a vest for him. It makes it more obvious that he's working so people know not to distract him."

Dean nodded. "Okay."

Cas squeezed his shoulder lightly before letting his hand fall away. "Get dressed and I'll get Cujo ready." Cas left and Dean heard him taking Cujo out through the back door. He quickly got up and got dressed, snorted a bump in an attempt to mellow himself out, and went out into the living room. Cas was sitting on the couch, giving Cujo a quick brushing. Next to him was a blue, folded up piece of fabric with some patches on it.

Dean walked over to the couch and Cas picked up the vest. He held it up and Cujo put his head right through it. Cas reached underneath him and buckled the chest strap before straightening the vest. Dean leaned over to read the patches. There was one on each side, a red and black warning symbol that read SERVICE DOG: DO NOT PET. On the top of the vest, the part that sat along Cujo's spine, was a longer one, angled so that when Cujo was on Dean's left, anyone approaching would be able to read: DO NOT DISTRACT - I AM WORKING

Cas looked up at Dean. "Do you like them?" he said hesitantly. "I just got ones that were simple and to the point, but you can get different ones, too." A smile spread across his lips. "There were some I found online that I think you would particularly enjoy. They're rather... sarcastic."

Dean smiled weakly. "Okay. Maybe we can look at them later."

"Are you ready?" Dean nodded. "Okay, so he might be a little rusty since we haven't practiced in nearly two weeks, and he's still young," Cas said, petting Cujo's head. "So just try to watch that he doesn't sniff anything. Tell him to leave it. If you look overwhelmed, I'll do it." Dean nodded again, and Cas stood up. "Okay. Let's go."

They piled into the Impala and Cas drove to the grocery store. As they crossed the parking lot and neared the door, Dean began slowing down as Cujo licked his fingers, until Cas stopped. "Are you alright?"

"No," Dean muttered, stopping as well. "And asking me that makes it worse for some reason."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay, just- fuck." He took a deep breath. "Just let me have a cigarette by the door first." Cas nodded and followed him to lean against the building a few yards from the doors. Dean shakily lit a cigarette and lowered his head, pinching the bridge of his nose between the fingers of the hand that held the cigarette.

"Dean," Cas said softly, flicking the ash off his own cigarette. Dean barely lifted his head, just enough to acknowledge he'd heard him. "Let Cujo do his job."

Dean slid down into a sitting position on the ground, leaning back against the wall, and Cujo pressed himself into his lap, wrapping his front legs around his neck and letting his elbows press into Dean's chest. Cas was impressed- he hadn't worked much on DPT in different positions.

Once Dean finished his cigarette they went inside, and instantly a child shrieked, " _DOGGIE!_ " Dean visibly flinched at the shrill noise, but kept moving, hurrying to the dairy section in the back. Cas had to pick up his pace to keep up, but he was proud of how well Cujo stayed at Dean's side. When they got to the cooler, his heart was pounding a little harder from the brisk walk. As soon as he approached, Dean spun around.

" _Everyone_ is staring, Cas," he breathed, his voice low.

"I know it feels that way, Dean, but-" Dean looked positively terrified, so Cas quickly looked around. A few people were looking at Cujo, but most people were going about their own business. "Just get the milk and we can go, okay?"

Dean nodded and turned around, grabbing a gallon of milk out of the cooler before slamming the door shut and making a bee-line for the front of the store. None of the fast-lanes were open, so they were stuck waiting on a regular line. Cujo spent the first five minutes on line licking Dean's hand before giving up and beginning to paw at his leg.

Cas watched Cujo work before realizing what was getting Dean so worked up. To his right, on the next line over, a disheveled and tired-looking older woman with three kids was very clearly scowling at Dean and Cujo as her children babbled on and on about the _doggie_. Cas shot her a dirty look, but she didn't seem to care. Finally he couldn't take it anymore, and he snapped, "Hey! What's your problem?"

Dean's eyes widened. "Cas-"

The woman looked shocked for a split second before covering it up with indifference. "Dog's don't belong in grocery stores," she said. "It's nasty."

Cas crossed his arms. " _Nasty_? But your kid can sit in the cart wearing a diaper that may very well be full of shit, right? Touching everything after putting it's fingers in it's mouth." He scowled at her. "Gross. Besides, he just had a bath yesterday, which is apparently more than I can say for you."

Dean looked like he wanted a hole to open in the floor and swallow him up. "Cas, please-" he mumbled.

"Oh, screw, you," the woman seethed. "My kid's no _it_. Dogs are _its_. Dogs aren't the same as kids. Maybe to you gays, but-"

" _Excuse_ you?" Cas exclaimed, his voice rising. "I'd rather have fifteen dogs than contribute to the overpopulation our planet." He paused, noticing she was heavily pregnant. "What, three wasn't enough?" he continued, his eyes moving back up to her face. He briefly thought that maybe he was going too far, but he couldn't stop. He was vaguely aware of Dean shoving the milk into his chest, and he grabbed it as he continued speaking. "Have you ever heard of a condom, or are all straight people good for is breeding?"

Her jaw dropped and she spluttered for a few seconds before hissing, "Fuck you," and turning back to face forward in her line.

Cas smiled pleasantly at her before turning forward as well and realizing he was next in line. The cashier was staring at him in shock, and he blushed a bit as he moved up to the register. He'd gotten lost in the moment, and he'd forgotten that other people could hear him. "I'm sorry," he said sheepishly as the cashier rang up the milk. "She just-"

"It's okay," the cashier said quickly. "I hate that lady anyway. Her kids are brats and she doesn't even give a shit. Besides, she's living in the wrong place to be openly homophobic." He shrugged, taking the cash Cas was holding out to him.

"That's true," Cas said, nodding. "I'm from Kansas. It's pretty common there, but if you speak up like that you usually get assaulted." He briefly thought back to the time he was walking home in tenth grade and mouthed off to some seniors who were fucking with him, and they'd sent him to the emergency room. He'd started carrying a knife after that, but he'd preferred not to use it, so he'd learned not to feed into the bullying.

The cashier nodded sympathetically as he handed Cas his change back. "Your boyfriend ran out into the parking lot." He frowned. "I hope he'll be okay."

Cas sighed. "It was his first time out with the dog, so I'm hoping this hasn't completely ruined it for him." He paused. "I shouldn't have said anything."

The cashier continued frowning. "She deserved it. I'm just sorry it was at your boyfriend's expense."

Cas sighed again. "Me too." He grabbed the milk. "Have a nice day."

"You too," the cashier said. Cas exited the building and headed for the car. He didn't see Dean until he was directly in front of the Impala, as Dean was lying on the pavement, Cujo on top of him and licking his face. Cas just stared at him for a moment, feeling awful, until he finally spoke up.

"Dean, I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Dean mumbled, keeping his eyes closed.

"No, it's not. I shouldn't have opened my mouth."

Dean placed both hands on Cujo's shoulders and pushed him off. He sat up, turning so he was leaning back against the door of the car. "It's alright. I appreciate you defending me. Maybe next time, though, just... unless they say something first, let it go?" He looked up at Cas.

Cas nodded. He was quiet for a moment, then he fished the keys out of his pocket. "Ready to go home?"

Dean nodded and stood up, his legs a bit shaky. Cas unlocked the car and Dean loaded Cujo up into the backseat before getting in the front. Cas set the milk on the floor in the backseat and started the car.

"You really told her off," Dean said suddenly, looking out the window. Cas looked over and saw he was smirking. Cas smiled. "I've never seen you get so nasty," Dean continued.

"Yeah," Cas agreed. "I'm not proud of it." He was pretty certain it was the coke, and he wasn't sure how to feel about it obviously changing his personality. He put the car in drive and pulled out of the spot.

Dean was quiet for a few minutes before speaking again. "So..." He cleared his throat and turned to Cas. "You seemed to have a pretty strong opinion about her kids."

Cas glanced to him briefly before looking back out the windshield. "Yeah," he said flatly. He began to worry that he'd gone to far and possibly even offended Dean. Did Dean want kids? They'd never discussed it. Even when Lisa had miscarried, he wasn't able to figure out if Dean really wanted kids in the future or not. They definitely weren't ready now, but for some people, not liking kids was a deal-breaker. The car was silent for a full minute as Cas' worries grew.

"So... I take it you don't want kids?" Dean finally asked. He was looking out the window again.

Cas worried his lip between his teeth. "Um... not really, no." He paused. "Do you?"

Dean's relief came out in a short laugh. "No. And I'm so glad you don't." He sighed. "I was really worried you would, and..." He turned his head to look at Cas. "I can't even take care of myself, Cas," he mumbled. "But I don't want to deny you what you want in life."

Cas smiled weakly. "I know, Dean. But no, I don't want kids." He paused. "They're kind of gross."

Dean smiled. "Yeah. I agree."

Cas sighed. "I hope I didn't ruin working with Cujo for you."

"No," Dean said quickly. "I'll still bring him out."

Cas breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank god."

* * *

It was one of those days. One of those days where the voice wouldn't leave him alone, hallucinations were in full swing, and every little noise (real or not) was making him jump. Cujo was up his ass like a suppository, attempting DPT. Dean was grateful for the company, and it helped him differentiate between hallucination and reality, because if something wasn't real, Cujo didn't react to it.

He was lying on the bed with the door closed, because Cas was in the living room mopping the floor at eleven o'clock at night, singing along to oldies at the top of his lungs. It's not that it bothered him, but when Dean got like this, it was disorienting. He'd been using more than usual all day, trying to quiet his mind, but it just wasn't working. It seemed to be working less and less these days.

He'd just rolled over and covered his head with the pillow when he heard a loud crashing noise outside the bedroom window. Cujo lifted his head, looking to the window and emitting a low _woof_ , so he knew it was real. It sounded like someone had hopped the gate leading to the backyard and knocked the garbage cans over on their way down. He threw the pillow off and grabbed his gun. He flung the bedroom door open, running out into the living room and coming to a stop.

Cas' head snapped up and Dean realized at some point he'd unplugged his iPod so that the music came from the built-in speakers instead and wasn't as loud. He reached into his pocket and paused it, looking up to stare at Dean. "Are you alright? What's going on?"

"T- there was a noise," Dean said, swaying where he was standing and slurring his words slightly. "Outside."

Cas raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? I didn't hear anything."

Dean nodded, then suddenly froze. "There! I heard it again! You didn't hear it?" he asked frantically.

"No..." Cas said softly. He looked to Cujo, who was nudging Dean's empty hand with his nose, attempting to get his attention and distract him from his rising anxiety. He briefly admired his dedication before returning his gaze to Dean's face. "I think you're hallucinating."

Dean narrowed his eyes. "No, Cas, _Cujo barked_."

"Dean-" Cas started carefully. Dean cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"Whatever, Cas. What would you know anyway? You're all coked up." He turned to the backdoor, bringing his other hand to his gun to hold it in front of him a bit more steadily.

Cas couldn't hide the hurt on his face, but Dean wasn't looking. "Because being doped up is so much better, right?" he snapped, dropping the handle to the mop. It hit the floor with a loud _smack_ and Dean flinched, but didn't turn around. Cas stormed up behind him, pushing him out of the way and yanking the door open.

"Cas, no-" Dean hissed.

Cas flicked on the light and stomped out into the cool April night. Dean hesitantly followed, staying near the door. Cas looked around wildly before his eyes came to rest upon two fat raccoons scrambling out of their over-turned garbage cans. "See?" he exclaimed, flinging his arm out to gesture to the animals, who were frozen in place and watching him with wide eyes. "It's just some damn raccoons."

Dean looked at them blankly, before slowly lowering his gun. "It's just some coons," he mumbled to himself.

"Yes, Dean. They are eating our garbage." He crossed his arms. "It's what they do." Cas strolled over to the cans, and the raccoons shrunk behind them in fear. He unlatched the gate and swung it open, and the animals stared at him for a moment before taking off through the opening and across the front yard. Cas closed and latched the gate, and then fixed the garbage cans as Dean watched quietly. He pushed past Dean again, leaving the back door open, and marching into the living room to resume mopping.

Dean re-entered and closed the door behind him. He stared at Cas' back for a minute or so. He may have been high, but he wasn't stupid, and he could tell Cas was mad at him. Finally he spoke up. "I'm sorry."

Cas stopped mopping but didn't turn around. "It's fine, Dean. Go lay back down."

"It's not fine," Dean insisted. "You're mad."

Cas spun around. "Yes, I'm mad. Just... go to bed. It's almost midnight."

"You're not coming?" Dean asked, his voice small.

"I'm kind of in the middle of something." He turned back around and resumed mopping.

Dean lingered for another minute. "Look, it just upset me when you blew me off saying I was hallucinating-"

Cas spun around again. "I know, Dean, but that's not my fault, okay? I don't know what you hear in your head, so I can't innately know when you're hallucinating and when you're not." He paused, his face softening a bit. "Just please put the gun down and go to bed."

Dean put his head down and nodded. He shuffled into the bedroom, depositing the gun in the bottom drawer of his night stand and crawling under the covers. Cujo jumped up and curled up next to him. Dean laid awake for a while, unable to shut off his brain. He never should've left. He fucked _everything_ up. Cas resented him, and he couldn't blame him. He resented himself, too. Now Cas was addicted to cocaine and dropped out of school and fuck, he'd ruined the kids life more than he ever thought he could.

.

"Wake the fuck up!" Dean cracked open his eyes and groaned, and then a rough hand was smacking him on the cheek. "I said get up."

He immediately sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, reaching up to rub the sleep from his eyes. His cheek stung.

"Go get Sam ready for school and make him some fuckin' breakfast." He paused for a split second before barking, "NOW!"

Dean scrambled off the bed and past his father, out into the hallway. He knocked on Sam's door before opening it and sliding in, closing it behind him. Sam was shifting beneath the blanket, probably from the shouting, but he wasn't awake yet. Dean reached out to touch his shoulder. "Sammy, wake up," he mumbled, his voice thick from sleep.

Sam opened his eyes and slowly pushed himself up off the mattress as Dean went through his dresser for clothes for the eight-year-old. He tossed some clothes onto the bed. "Get dressed. I gotta go down and start breakfast."

Sam nodded sleepily and Dean left the room and hurried downstairs. If breakfast wasn't ready at six-thirty sharp, his father would have a fit. Dean couldn't figure out why, since he never even ate breakfast. He'd wake Dean up in the mornings and then pass out drunk in his room. He opened the fridge and sighed. There wasn't much in there, but he found the last of a loaf of bread and some eggs.

He had toast and scrambled eggs on the table by the time Sam came downstairs. They sat in silence, as they usually did, because conversation gave their father something to get angry about. If they didn't speak, he couldn't hear them, and maybe they wouldn't trigger an angry outburst.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Sam asked quietly.

"I'm good," Dean lied. The truth was he _was_ hungry, but there wasn't much food left, and John wasn't exactly on top of grocery shopping. He needed to save it for Sam. John had also been making sure Dean was fully aware that he'd recently put a bit of extra weight onto his twelve-year-old frame. _"You're gettin' fat. Stop stuffin' your face, I ain't made of money."_

Sam frowned but didn't push it further. He finished eating and took a book out of his backpack. Dean got up and began quickly washing the dishes as Sam read at the table. He needed to get himself dressed before the bus came to pick them up. He must have used too much soap, or maybe he was just being careless, because he dropped a dish as he was washing, and it landed on another dish with a loud crack before both of them broke into multiple pieces.

Dean inhaled sharply. "Shit." He ran across the kitchen for the garbage can, bringing it to the counter and quickly pulling the pieces out of the sink and tossing them into the garbage. He heard a thump from upstairs and then his fathers footsteps coming down the stairs. He picked up his pace in an attempt to conceal the evidence before he entered the kitchen.

"What are you doing?"

He turned around to glance at his father briefly before turning back to the sink. "Just, uh, cleaning out the drain."

John made his way over, peering into the sink. He reached into the suds and pulled out a sharp piece of ceramic Dean had missed, chuckling to himself. "Do you think I'm made of fucking money? You want to tell me why you think it's okay to break my dishes then _lie_ about it?" He threw the shard back into the sink. "Go wait outside for the bus, Sam," he growled, not breaking eye contact with Dean.

The bus wasn't due for another fifteen minutes. "But-" Sam started.

"NOW!" John barked.

Sam quickly grabbed his book and his backpack, shooting Dean a worried glance before disappearing into the living room. They heard the front door close, and Dean swallowed down the lump in his throat. He shouldn't have lied. _Why_ did he lie? His beating would be ten times worse than if he was just honest about breaking the plate.

"Funny thing about lying," John said, grabbing Dean's face in his hand. He was squeezing so hard it hurt, and Dean closed his eyes. "Look at me." Dean opened them again. "Funny thing about lying," he repeated. "Only the smart ones get away with it." He reeled his fist back and punched Dean in the stomach, and the pain sent him to his knees. "Shirt off." Dean obeyed, and he heard the familiar sound of leather sliding against denim as John removed his belt. "Gotta teach you a lesson, _son_." He spit the last word out as if it was an insult. "Lying is wrong."

Cas awoke to Dean twitching, sweating, and groaning next to him. "Dean?" Dean didn't respond, only screwing his face in pain and whimpering. Cas sat up and placed his hand on Dean's face, and Dean flinched beneath his touch. "Dean!" he repeated, almost yelling. Dean's eyes flew open and he sucked in a breath. His eyes remained unfocused as his breathing slowed. "Are you alright?" Dean's eyes focused on him, but he still didn't say anything.

A few minutes passed before Dean finally spoke. "Cas?"

"I'm right here, Dean. You were having a nightmare."

Dean closed his eyes and let out a long, drawn out breath. "I was back... at my dad's." Nearly ten years after that particular incident, and thousands of miles away, and he still couldn't escape it.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," Cas said softly.

"Yeah," Dean mumbled. He turned his head to bury his face into his pillow. At least it wasn't another nightmare about Al. Those weren't about the beatings- they were never about the beatings.

Cas settled back down, turning to face Dean. He wrapped his arm around him and pulled him into his chest. He felt a wetness against his skin, and he realized Dean was crying. He brought his hand up to smooth it over the hair on the back of Dean's head. After a few minutes, Dean sniffled. "I love you Cas," he murmured into his chest.

"I love you too, Dean." He placed a kiss on the top of Dean's head. "Try and go back to sleep."

"Okay," he mumbled, burrowing further into Cas. At least now when he awoke, Cas was there. It would always beat waking up on the street alone.


	76. Chapter 76

Dean awoke to Cas' cell phone ringing from his night stand. "Cas," he groaned, his voice thick, nudging the lump next to him.

"Hmm?"

"Your phone." He felt the mattress moving as Cas rolled over.

"Hello? ...No, it's alright." He paused. "Oh, yeah? What kind of dog?" Cas let out a sleepy laugh. "I thought you wanted something low energy. ...Oh, okay." He paused again, longer this time. "Yeah, sure. Give me like an hour to get up and take a shower. ...Alright, bye."

"I'm guessing that was Rich?" Dean asked, his face buried in his pillow.

"Yeah," Cas said, setting his phone back down on the night stand and rolling over onto his back. "He just adopted a ten-year-old black lab. He said the shelter said he's good with other dogs, so he wants him to meet Cujo."

Dean turned his head to face Cas. "So he's coming over in an hour?"

"Yeah." Cas turned to meet his eyes. "You want the shower first?"

Dean gave him a sleepy smile. "We could shower together."

Cas smiled back, leaning in to give him a slow kiss. "Good idea," he murmured as they broke apart. He pushed himself out of bed and left the room. Dean rolled back over and groaned up at the ceiling. He _really_ didn't want to get out of bed. Cas was waiting for him though, stark naked, so he threw the blanket off and hurried out of bed and into the bathroom.

.

"Hey," Cas grinned, opening the front door. He looked around at Rich's feet. "Where's the dog?"

"In the truck. I don't really know how to introduce dogs, so..." Rich shrugged.

Cas nodded. "Well, I'll leash up Cujo and we'll let them sniff each other and go from there."

Rich nodded and went back to his truck as Cas leashed up Cujo and followed him out into the front yard. Dean stood in the doorway, watching quietly.

Rich leashed up the lab and lifted him out of the truck, carefully setting him down on the ground. His truck was a bit too high up off the ground for a ten-year-old dog to jump down. The dog spotted Cujo and let out a small whine, dancing excitedly in place.

"Cujo, who's that?" Cas asked, looking down at Cujo, who was wagging his tail and staring at the other dog. "Is that your new friend?"

Cujo let out an excited bark and began doing his own bouncing dance. Cas walked him over to Rich and Cujo rushed the dog, stopping short once they were face to face. The other dog stiffened a bit, but once they touched noses and Cujo moved to sniff his butt, he relaxed and began sniffing Cujo as well.

"Is this good?" Rich asked, looking down at the dogs.

Cas nodded. "Looks good. Relaxed body language." He looked up at Rich. "What's his name?"

"They said his name is Max. I don't want to change it and confuse him, so... I guess it's Max."

"Why was he at the shelter?"

Rich frowned. "Family said they were moving."

Cas frowned too, looking down at the dog. "Poor Max." He looked back up at Rich. "Do you want to go around to the back and let them loose?"

Rich nodded. "I don't know how good he is off leash, so yeah."

They walked around the house to the gate, and Cas noticed Dean go back in the house and close the door. When they went through the gate and entered the back yard, Dean was already standing on the patio, smoking a cigarette.

"Why don't you let him loose first," Cas said to Rich. "This way he can choose if he wants to engage or not." Rich nodded and unleashed Max, who continued sniffing Cujo. Cujo kept looking up to Cas, as if asking why he was still leashed. When Max backed up and lowered his body into a play bow, letting out a single, excited bark, Cas smiled and unclipped the leash.

Cujo took off, running in circles around the yard as Max chased him around. Cujo spotted a ball and put on the brakes, skidding to a stop, and Max tackled him and they started wrestling.

Cas looked to Rich with a smile. "I guess they like each other," Cas said.

Rich smiled back. "I guess so."

Cas looked past Rich to Dean, who was leaning against the back door, arms crossed and smiling to himself as he watched them play. Cas turned and walked over to him. As he neared, Dean let his arms fall to his sides, and Cas leaned in for a chaste kiss. "Do you want to roll a joint so we can smoke while they play?"

Dean nodded and went inside to get their weed.

* * *

"Cas, wake up."

"Hmm?" Cas felt Dean gently shaking his shoulder.

"Wake up." Cas groaned, but he rolled over onto his back and looked up at Dean, who was propped up on one elbow and smiling down at him. "Happy birthday."

Cas' eyes widened in realization. "It's my birthday! Yes... thank you."

Dean grinned. "Yes, May twelfth _is_ your birthday, right?" he joked. "And we are going to do whatever you want today." He leaned down to give him a kiss.

Cas smiled against his lips. "I just wanna spend it with you." Dean pulled back. "But... maybe later tonight, will you come to the club with me?"

Dean raised an eyebrow. "The club?"

"Yes. It's a lot of fun." He hadn't gone since Dean returned, and he missed it.

Dean forced himself to smile. A crowded club wasn't exactly his idea of fun, but it was Cas' birthday. "Okay. Whatever you want." The excited smile that spread across Cas' face was so worth it.

"Right now, I want to fuck you," Cas grinned.

Dean's smile fell slightly. "Like... you wanna top?"

Cas' smile faded. "Well, that's not what I meant, but..."

"But you want to," Dean finished.

Cas frowned, studying Dean's face. "Well, yeah, but... if you're not ready-"

"No," Dean said quickly. "It's fine." It had been two and a half months; he could do this. He wasn't in pain anymore, he hadn't had a nightmare about it in at least three weeks, and he _wanted_ to bottom. He was just _scared_.

"Are... are you sure?" Cas asked hesitantly.

"Yes. I... I miss it," Dean admitted.

Cas grinned. "Okay." He suddenly pushed Dean onto his back, maneuvering himself so that he was on top of him and leaning down to kiss him roughly. Dean's dick immediately perked up in his boxers. He'd always loved when Cas got rough with him, and he knew Cas would never hurt him. He could actually let go and enjoy this, although in the back of his mind he was worried about what would happen when they got to the penetration.

After a bit of heated kissing, Cas moved away from his mouth, trailing kisses down his jaw and neck. He stopped where his neck met his collarbone, suckling lightly before nipping the skin between his teeth, causing a small moan to escape from Dean. He moved down Dean's chest, down his stomach, and before Dean's mind could even keep up, he was kissing the inside of his thigh. Dean felt his heart rate increasing, but he ignored it. He just kept telling himself _This is Cas. He won't hurt you. This. Is. Cas._

Cas lifted his head. "Dean? Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he breathed, staring up at the ceiling. "Why?"

Cas tilted his head, squinting at him. "You... don't seem comfortable."

Dean gritted his teeth. "It's fine, Cas, just keep going."

"As you wish." He could hear Cas wetting his fingers in his mouth, and he screwed his eyes shut. Cas gently pushed his knees farther apart and brought his fingers to Dean's perineum. He dragged them down, slowly, leaving a wet trail, as Dean's heart pounded in his chest.

_This is Cas._

When Cas' fingers brushed over his hole, all bets were off. His legs involuntarily snapped shut, and then he was immediately flooded with embarrassment at his reaction. He scooted up in the bed and drew his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. " _Fuck_ ," he blurted out. "I'm sorry, I- I can't-"

Cas stared at him in shock for a moment, blinking slowly, before crawling up next to him and looking at him with concern in his wide eyes. "Dean, it's okay, you don't have to." He paused, studying Dean for a moment. "I feel like there's something you're not telling me," he said softly.

Dean lowered his head into his arms to hide his face.

"Dean, please," Cas begged, reaching out to touch his arm. Dean stiffened under his touch, and he pulled his hand away. He waited one, two, three minutes for Dean to finally speak.

Dean lifted his head, staring straight ahead. "He fucking-" He cut himself off and looked away, his breath catching in his throat and his eyes beginning to sting. He couldn't even say the word.

"Who?" Cas asked gently.

Dean blew out a long exhale. He closed his eyes and tears finally broke free and dripped down his cheeks. "He didn't just try to kill me," he said, his voice shaking.

Cas' eyes widened as he realized what Dean was saying. He thought back to when he picked Dean up- he thought the limping was just because his entire body was sore. He remembered Dean sitting unnaturally in the car, refusing solid food... He opened and closed his mouth a few times as he searched for the right words. "Dean, I..." He swallowed. "I am _so_ sorry."

Dean lowered his head into his arms again. He didn't respond, but Cas saw his shoulders begin to heave with silent sobs.

Cas didn't know what to do. He didn't even want to touch Dean without his permission. "Do... do you want me to hold you?" he asked softly. He saw Dean barely nod, so he leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Dean's shoulders. Dean twisted to face him, leaning into him and beginning to sob. Cas just held him, rubbing soothing circles into his back and letting him cry. He wanted to be angry, to go out and find the guy and murder him, but he reminded himself that that would _not_ help Dean. Just being there and staying calm _would_ help Dean.

Ten minutes stretched on for what seemed like forever until Dean finally pulled away. "Lay down," Cas suggested, gently, and Dean did. Cas pushed himself off the bed and crossed the room.

"Where are you going?" Dean asked, his voice small.

"I'm just getting you a towel," Cas responded, grabbing the towel he'd showered with the night before off of the hook on the back of the bedroom door. He brought it back to the bed and held it out to Dean, who took it and wiped his face. He blew his nose on the corner of it and handed it back to Cas, who wiped off his chest with the other side before tossing it into the dirty laundry basket. He laid back down next to Dean and pulled the blanket up over them.

He reached up and placed a hand on Dean's cheek, staring into his red-rimmed eyes. "Dean... why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know," Dean mumbled. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I just feel like I deserved it." Anger sprouted in Cas' chest, but he didn't react. He needed to let Dean finish. "I put myself into that situation," Dean continued. "It was my own fault I was homeless. My fault for using dope, my fault for selling my body in the first place... let alone getting involved with him." He bit his lip into his mouth. "He told me it was theft at best."

"Dean." Dean opened his eyes to meet Cas'. "I want you to know that none of that is true." He paused, trying to collect himself. He didn't want the anger he felt to come out in his voice. "Not in the slightest."

Dean nodded, breaking eye contact and leaning forward to bury his head in Cas' chest. Cas smoothed the hair on the back of Dean's head with his palm. "I can't always be around, but I swear, Dean, as long as I'm there, I will never let anyone hurt you ever again."

"I know," he mumbled.

"You don't have to ever bottom again, if you don't want to," Cas continued, staring off at the wall behind Dean.

Dean sighed into his chest. "I do want to, Cas. It just might be a while before I _can_."

"You take as long as you need, Dean, and if I ever do something you don't want, you tell me to stop."

"Okay." He inhaled a shaky breath. "I'm sorry I ruined your birthday."

"You absolutely did _not_ ruin my birthday."

Dean was quiet for a moment before breaking away from Cas and rolling over. He began mixing up a shot and all Cas could do was watch sadly.

They spent the day hanging around the house. Rich came by for a while after work with Max, and he and Cujo played while they smoked and watched TV. Cas invited him to come to the club with them and he accepted.

"You coming too, Dean?" he asked, looking to Dean.

Dean shrugged. "Yeah. Cas wants me to."

Cas smiled and Rich nodded. Around nine, he went home to drop Max off, change out of his work clothes, and shower.

"You don't have to come, Dean," Cas said once Rich had left. "You can hang out with Brit or something."

"No, it's okay... I want to."

Cas wasn't convinced, but he wasn't going to argue.

.

Dean was already on the couch in a pair of black jeans, a plaid button-up, and his green jacket, when Cas emerged from the bedroom. Dean let out a low whistle. "Damn, Cas."

Cas grinned, looking down at himself. He was only wearing black jeans and a black button-up. "You like?" He looked back up at Dean.

Dean nodded, biting his lower lip between his teeth. "Yes."

Cas smirked, crossing the room and lowering himself onto Dean's lap and straddling him with his thighs. He leaned down to press their lips together, and Dean raised his hands to place them on Cas' hips. Cas pushed his tongue in, licking into Dean's mouth greedily. He'd just ground his hips down into Dean when there was a knock on the door.

"Dammit," Dean grumbled as they broke apart.

Cas placed his hand on Dean's cheek, and Dean closed his eyes, leaning into the touch as Cas dragged his fingers away. "Later," he crooned.

Dean nodded and Cas pushed himself off, strolling over to the door and letting Rich in. They chatted for a minute before piling into the Impala and heading out.

.

"You okay?" Cas asked, glancing across the front seat at Dean.

Dean waited until the back door closed behind Rich to speak. "That makes it worse, Cas... remember? _Tell me_ I'm okay."

Cas frowned, reaching over to wrap his fingers around Dean's. "You're okay. You've got this."

"I'm okay," Dean mumbled, reaching up and yanking on the door handle.

Cas smiled as he shut off the car and followed Dean out, locking it behind them. He grabbed his hand as they walked in, and Dean was immediately hit with the smell of sweat and alcohol, and some song that sounded like Madonna. Okay, so maybe it wouldn't be _so_ bad. At least there was booze.

He followed Cas as he and Rich made a bee-line for the bathroom. He watched with wide eyes as they broke out some coke, snorting it off the edge of the sink in plain view of the other guys coming in and out of the bathroom.

"Aren't... aren't you afraid of getting caught?" he asked.

Rich laughed. "Man, this is an eighties-themed gay club in California. Nobody is calling the cops over cocaine, trust me."

Cas just grinned and shrugged, and Dean found himself feeling even worse that his drug of choice was something dirty and taboo, instead of something fun and celebrated. He was such a failure, he couldn't even get _drug addiction_ right.

They exited the bathroom and Cas held some money out to Dean. Dean took it, raising an eyebrow, and Cas leaned in and yelled over the music, "For drinks."

Dean nodded and made his way over to the bar as Cas and Rich disappeared onto the dance floor. He ordered a whiskey and downed it in one go before ordering another one. He'd been using so much lately, he hadn't just gotten _drunk_ in a while, and he planned on remedying that.

By his fourth one he was finally feeling it. It had only been half an hour, and he hadn't seen Cas anywhere. He'd just finished his fifth one when Cas appeared next to him, disheveled and out of breath.

"Come dance with me, Dean," he grinned.

Dean smiled and shook his head. "Sorry, Cas... I don't dance."

"Come on," Cas pouted. "I want you to have fun."

"Oh, I'm having fun," Dean retorted, holding up his empty glass. Cas frowned. "And I'm having fun watching you have fun," he added quickly.

Cas nodded and leaned in to kiss him before again disappearing into the crowd. Dean ordered another and turned around, leaning back on the bar and scanning the crowd. After a few minutes, he located Cas' blue hair under the lights. Two people in the crowd parted, and Dean could see the guy behind him grinding into him.

A growl escaped his throat and he was about to storm over and deck the guy, but then he noticed nearly _everyone else_ was dancing the same way, and he didn't want to embarrass Cas on his birthday. He narrowed his eyes and finished his drink, keeping his eye on the guy in case he got too handsy. He lost sight of them for a few minutes, and he began to panic until he spotted them again.

He had just turned around to order what must have been his tenth drink when Cas re-appeared next to him. "Dean, are you sure you don't want to dance?" He'd hoped if he gave Dean some more time to loosen up, he would change his mind.

"What's wrong with that other guy?" Dean muttered. "He seems to like you."

Cas sighed. "Not really, Dean. He called me a twink."

Dean looked back down at his empty glass. "Exactly."

Cas groaned. "Dean, please? It's fun."

"No, Cas," Dean snapped. "Maybe it's fun for you but I'm not hopped up on coke, alright?" He closed his eyes. "Now can you please go enjoy yourself and let me finish getting drunk?" He re-opened his eyes and looked up, and Cas was gone. He sighed and flagged the bartender down for another drink. He knew he was being an asshole, but he couldn't stop himself.

 _'Finish' getting drunk?_ Cas thought to himself as he pushed his way through the crowd. _You're already there, but whatever._ He began looking for Rich. It was already twelve-thirty, and they'd been heading to the bathroom at thirty minute intervals to keep their buzzes going. After ten minutes of searching he figured maybe he was already in the bathroom. What he wasn't expecting was to walk in on some random dude going down on Rich.

"Jesus christ!" Cas yelped, quickly looking down to the floor.

"Shit, sorry Cas," Rich gasped, but the guy didn't stop, nor did Rich tell him to.

Cas looked towards the sinks, pulling his bag out of his pocket. "Dean's being a dick," he muttered.

"Why am I not surprised?" Rich breathed. "He's probably- _ah_ \- overwhelmed. I'm surprised he even came."

"Because... he wanted to make me happy," Cas mumbled, suddenly feeling bad about being angry.

"Can we maybe..." Rich sighed, "talk about this later?"

Cas glanced over his shoulder, and Rich had his head back against the tile, fingers twisted into the guy's hair. "Uh, yeah," he mumbled, turning back to the sink. He couldn't find it in himself to be uncomfortable, though. He'd already heard all of those noises from Rich, he'd already seen his dick, and before he and Rich had hooked up, _he'd_ been the one sucking someone else's dick in the bathroom. He sniffed a line and pocketed his bag, shooting Rich a, "Come find me when you're done," over his shoulder.

He heard a mumbled, "Almost," but he was pretty sure Rich wasn't talking to him. He pushed open the bathroom door and made his way back to the bar, where Dean was slumped over, head in his arms and his fingers wrapped around an empty glass.

He slid into the seat next to him, nudging him hard. "Dean?"

The bartender appeared in front of him. "He yours?" Cas nodded. "You might want to take him home before I run out of booze," he muttered.

Cas nodded, leaning down to talk into Dean's ear. "Dean?" he yelled.

Dean jumped, but he lifted his head slowly, blinking and trying to focus on Cas. "Casssss," he slurred, grinning sloppily. "'M sorry... I was a d- a dick."

Cas frowned. Apparently all the drinks had finally caught up with him in the last twenty minutes. "It's alright. We should probably get you home."

Dean swung his head around to look to the dance floor. "But- but there's still people."

"They'll be here all night, Dean. That doesn't mean we can't leave."

"What... what happen." He squinted at Cas. "To tha' guy?"

"I don't know. I don't care about him," Cas said with a frown. "Come on." He hooked his arm under Dean's and tried to pull him up, but Dean didn't budge.

"I'm still drinkin'," he slurred, looking to the bartender, who was serving someone at the opposite end of the bar.

"They've cut you off, Dean," Cas said quickly. "Come on." He tugged Dean again, and this time he came off the stool, stumbling into Cas, who caught him and held him up as Dean attempted to get his balance. When he couldn't, Cas pushed him back onto the bar stool. "I'll be right back." He backed up a few steps before turning and hurrying towards the bathroom. He almost smacked right into Rich as he was exiting.

"Man, I'm sorry about that-" Rich started quickly, but Cas cut him off.

"It's fine, really." _Nothing I haven't seen before._ "I've gotta go though. You can stay but I need help getting Dean to the car."

Rich just nodded and followed him to the bar, where Dean was again slumped over on the counter top. The bartender caught his eye, and Cas yelled, "Does he owe you anything?" The bartender nodded and held up five fingers and Cas fished around in his pocket before handing him three twenties.

Cas moved to Dean's other side and nodded to Rich, and they each grabbed an arm and hoisted him up. Dean tensed for a moment before realizing who was holding him. "Hey guysss," he slurred, drawing out the S as long as he could before his head lolled back.

"Jesus, Dean, can you even walk?" Rich shouted.

"I don't think he can," Cas yelled back. They each threw one of his arms over their shoulders and got him to stumble to the door. When they got to the car, Rich held him up while Cas unlocked the doors.

"This is ridiculous," Rich muttered.

"I know," Cas mumbled. "But it's my fault."

Rich stared at him like he had two heads. "How is this _your_ fault?"

Cas pursed his lips, opening the back door. "Let's just say I should have known this morning that today would not be a good day for him." He paused. "I shouldn't have let him come." They pushed Dean down into the back seat, tucking his legs in, and Rich closed the door.

"Do you want me to come back with you and help get him to bed?"

Cas glanced at the car. "I'll be okay." He looked back to Rich. "Do you want to stay here, or do you want a ride home?"

"Um..." Rich scratched the back of his neck and looked down at his feet. It was already one am. "I wouldn't mind going home, but I can just call a cab."

"No," Cas said, shaking his head. "I'll drive you. Get in." Rich nodded and they climbed into the front seat and Cas started the car. Boston began playing as the radio kicked on, and Dean began mumbling unintelligible lyrics in the back seat.

They drove in relative silence, the radio and Dean's low mumbling the only noise in the car, until Dean started actually talking.

"'M sorry, Cas... I jus' wanna forget."

Cas' grip tightened a bit on the steering wheel, his heart sinking in his chest. Apparently, as drunk as he was, he _still_ hadn't forgotten. "I know, Dean."

Rich wondered what the fuck they were talking about, but he stayed quiet, staring out the passenger window and taking drags off his cigarette.

"I'm sucha li'l _bitch_ ," Dean continued. "Why can't... why can't I jus' get ov'r it."

Cas sighed. "Dean, I'll remind you that we have company in the car."

" _SO?_ " Dean yelled, startling both Cas and Rich. He lowered his voice again. "Like his 'pinion of me... could sink any lower."

Rich turned to raise an eyebrow at Cas, but Cas didn't take his eyes off the road. "Dean... I really think you should stop talking."

"He's comin' for me," Dean mumbled. His voice sounded muffled, and Cas figured he'd rolled over and had his face squished against the seat.

"No, he's not," Cas assured him.

"He is... Matter uh... time," he babbled. "To finish wha' he started."

"What the fuck is he talking about?" Rich hissed.

Cas turned to him and shrugged. "I have no idea."

"Stop playin' dumb, Cas. _ALASTAIR_!"

Cas glared into the backseat. "Dean, _please_. Stop." Dean grumbled something unintelligible before falling silent. A few minutes ticked by before Cas glanced at Rich. "Can you make sure he's breathing?"

The calm way Cas asked this made Rich a mixture of sad and angry. He nodded, pushing himself up and twisting around to peer at Dean. He was twisted up in the back seat, but Rich could see his shoulder rising and falling as he took shallow breaths.

"He's good," he mumbled, turning around and sitting back down. "What the hell is he talking about?"

"I have no idea," Cas said hurriedly. He was pretty sure Dean didn't want Rich to know he'd been sexually assaulted, which is why he'd tried so hard to get Dean to stop talking. It had taken him this long to even tell _Cas_. "He hallucinates, so..." Cas shrugged. "I don't know. I've never heard that name before in my life." That last part was true.

Rich nodded, turning to look out the window again. "That's... sad," he said quietly.

"Yeah," Cas agreed.

Rich was quiet for a moment. "I have to give you credit for dealing with this, Cas." He paused. "I don't think I could."

Cas sighed. "You would be surprised what you'll deal with when you love someone."

"He's lucky to have you." _Finally_ they pulled into Rich's driveway, and they could hear Max barking inside. Rich hesitated with his hand on the door handle. "Thanks for the ride..." He paused, his eyes lingering on Cas' face. "I hope you enjoyed your birthday."

Cas smiled weakly. "I did. Thanks for coming out. Call me in the morning if you want me to come get you to pick up your truck."

Rich nodded, pushing the door open. "Night."

"Goodnight."

Rich closed the door behind him and Cas made sure he got in the front door before putting the car in reverse and backing out of the driveway. It was only ten minutes to their house, and he heard Dean groan from the back seat as the car came to a stop. "Dean? You awake?"

"Yah," Dean mumbled. "Where...?"

"Home." He got out of the car and went around to the back, opening the door and grabbing under Dean's arms. He pulled Dean and slid him out of the car, kicking the door closed, and began dragging him up the driveway. As they got to the front door, Dean started resisting.

"I... check... the house," he slurred.

"Dean, you can't even walk," Cas muttered, letting out a frustrated sigh. He lowered Dean to the ground and unlocked the front door, pushing it open. Dean twisted around and attempted to crawl on his stomach. "See? You can't even _crawl_. Let me put you to bed."

"No," Dean protested, dropping his head onto the ground.

"Holy shit, I haven't seen you this drunk since high school," Cas grumbled, reaching forward and taking Dean's wrists. He yanked him over the thresh hold and slid him across the living room floor as Cujo ran up and began sniffing him. He tried licking his face, and Dean groaned and shook his head.

"Cujo, go lay down," Cas said firmly, releasing Dean temporarily to close and lock the front door. Cujo ran off to lay on the couch. Cas continued dragging Dean until they reached the bedroom door, and then he had to roll Dean over and drag him on his back because of the carpet. He stopped at the edge of the bed, then stood in front of Dean and yanked his arms forward so that he was sitting up. He bent down and wrapped his arms around his chest, grunting as he lifted him and deposited him onto the bed.

"Than' you," Dean mumbled, cracking his eyes open to squint at Cas. Cas didn't say anything, only turned and walked out, returning with the small bathroom garbage can. As if on cue, Dean sat half-way up and began heaving, and Cas held the can under him just in time to catch his vomit. Cas sat down next to him on the bed, rubbing circles on his back with his palm as he held the can in his other hand.

"'M sorry," Dean whined, dry heaving into the garbage can. "I ruined... your bir'day." His eyes were red and watery, but Cas knew it wasn't just from throwing up; Dean was crying.

"You didn't ruin my birthday," he sighed. "Please stop saying that."

"I couldn't... even... get you a pres'nt," Dean continued, "Cause I didn't wanna aks you for money... for your own gift."

"Dean, it's _okay_ ," Cas insisted.

"No, i's not!" Dean yelled, heaving once more and throwing up into the can again.

"I swear to god, Dean," Cas growled, "If you don't drop it right now and go to bed-"

"What? What're you gonna do?" Dean snapped. His face softened, and he stared blankly into the garbage can, his eyes unfocused. "I should jus' end it. I can't ev'n... keep it together... for _one_ day."

Cas frowned. "Please don't talk like that. We can get you help, Dean."

"I don't wan' _help_ , Cas," Dean spat. Fresh tears rolled down his cheeks. "Nothin'll ever take the mem'ries away."

Cas looked at him sympathetically. He knew Dean wasn't just talking about the sexual assault, he meant everything- all of the pain and abuse he'd endured over the course of his entire life. "Why don't we go to bed and talk in the morning," he suggested gently. He knew Dean most likely wouldn't even remember the conversation, but if he did, and he wanted to talk about it, Cas would be there.

Dean nodded and let himself fall back onto his side. Cas helped him get undressed and pulled back the covers before rolling him over onto his side of the bed. When Dean heard his footsteps retreating, he croaked, "Where're you goin'?"

"To get you water," Cas replied. After hiding all of the sharp objects in the house (and the car keys) under the sink, he returned with a glass of water and set it on Dean's night stand. Dean slowly took a few sips, just to get the taste of regurgitated whiskey out of his mouth, before setting the glass back down (nearly spilling it) and flopping his head onto the pillow.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." Cas quickly got undressed and slid under the covers next to Dean, wrapping his arm around his waist. Dean was passed out and snoring within minutes, and Cas slowly recoiled his arm and slid back out of bed. He padded around to Dean's side, quietly opening the bottom drawer and retrieving Dean's gun. He went back to his side, concealing it in his own night stand and climbing back into bed. He wrapped his arm around Dean again, pressing his chest up against his back and burying his face in his neck. He knew Dean was asleep, but he said it anyway.

"Goodnight, Dean. I love you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh.... my feels, just _writing_ all that :c


	77. Chapter 77

"Let's go to the beach," Cas suggested. It was already June, and it was finally getting warm enough again. "It's supposed to be sixty today."

"That's freezing," Dean protested.

"Come on," Cas groaned. "We'll bring Cujo, and maybe Rich and Brit will want to come with us."

Dean relented under Cas' hopeful stare. "Okay."

Brit declined, which didn't surprise Cas _or_ Dean. She didn't want to do much these days besides sit home and use, and while Dean couldn't blame her, he had Cas to push him to get out of the house. Rich, on the other hand, was more than happy to go with them. He met them there with Max, who ended up being pretty well trained already, although Cas had helped him refine his obedience.

They sat in the sand as Cas threw the ball for the dogs. They had a blast, wrestling on the beach and running through the cold water, biting at it as it splashed up around them. When they forgot about the ball, Cas got up to go retrieve it.

"I'm worried about him," Rich sighed, staring at Cas' retreating form and exhaling a puff of smoke from his freshly lit cigarette.

"What?"

"I'm worried about him," he repeated. "He's lost a ton of weight, and the other night he randomly got a nosebleed, and he just fuckin' blew it off."

"Oh." Dean looked down at his own cigarette, wondering where he was when that happened. Probably at Brit's.

"I mean, like, don't get me wrong," Rich continued. "I'm worried about you, too." Dean didn't lift his head. "But I know you are well aware of what you're doing to yourself." He paused. "Cas seems like he's still in denial."

Dean shrugged, attempting to cover up his own worry with indifference. "I'm worried, too, but what am I supposed to do about it?"

"Say something?" Rich offered.

"I can't."

Rich raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

Dean shrugged again. "'Cause I'm no better," he mumbled, looking away.

Rich scoffed. "That doesn't mean you can't say anything."

"I think he knows I'm worried."

"Can't you at least try?" Rich pressed. "I think he'd listen to you more than he'd listen to me."

Dean sighed. "He's probably just going to call me a hypocrite, Rich. You're gonna have to take the reigns on this one."

Rich looked away so Dean couldn't see the anger on his face. "Fine," he muttered. He was so tired of the unbelievable _apathy_ displayed by heroin addicts. Brit was no different. She was basically ignoring him at this point, only hanging out with Dean and other addicts, because he wouldn't drop the subject of her getting clean. He looked up and noticed Cas returning, both dogs following closely at his heels, so he dropped the subject for now.

He had just pulled out his bag and begun rolling a joint when Dean's phone went off. Dean patted down his jacket pockets before finding his phone in his jeans. "Hello?"

A male voice asked, "Is this Mr. Winchester?"

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. Who is this?"

"This is Joey. From the clinic?"

"Oh. Sorry." He'd gotten tested within a few weeks of returning home, but they'd told him certain things could take up to three months to be detected, so he'd been waiting anxiously for the results of his most recent tests.

"It's alright. I just wanted to let you know everything came back negative."

Dean let out a sigh of relief. "Awesome." Awesome was a fucking understatement. He was well aware of how _incredibly_ lucky he was. "Thank you."

"Of course. Is Mr. Novak there? He didn't answer his phone, but on his paperwork, he authorized us to share his information with you."

"Uh, yeah, hold on." Cas had decided to get tested as well, after admitting to Dean he'd gone down on a few guys (before Rich) while he was gone. He looked up and Cas was just nearing where they were sitting. "Cas, phone."

Cas raised an eyebrow, wondering who would be calling him on Dean's phone, but he took it from Dean's outstretched hand. "Hello?"

"Hi Mr. Novak, it's Joey from the clinic. I just wanted to let you know everything came back negative."

"Oh, thank god." Cas closed his eyes. "Thank you."

"No problem. You two have a good day."

"Thanks, you too." He hung up and handed the phone to Dean, looking at him expectantly.

"I'm good," Dean mumbled, a bit embarrassed that it was probably obvious to Rich what the conversation was about.

Cas smiled. "That's great."

Rich rolled the unlit joint between his fingers. "I should probably head home. I've got work in an hour."

"Okay," Cas said. "I'll walk you to your truck."

Rich nodded and stood up, leashing Max and heading towards the parking lot. As soon as they stepped onto the pavement, Cas was pulling his bag from his pocket. It was too windy to break it out on the beach, so he planned on doing it in the Impala before heading back to Dean and Cujo.

Rich sighed loudly as he yanked open the door to his truck. "Cas, man, we gotta talk."

Cas raised an eyebrow, leaning back on the Impala. "...About?"

Rich lifted Max into the truck and closed the door, turning around and leaning back on it. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked Cas right in the eyes. "Um, your out of control coke addiction? I don't even want to know how much money you're spending." He paused. "But that's not really what I'm concerned about."

Cas shoved the bag back into his pocket and crossed his arms. "And what is it that you're concerned about?" he asked flatly.

"Oh, I dunno, maybe the random nosebleeds and the fact that you've dropped probably thirty pounds that you didn't even have to lose in the first place." Cas looked down at his feet, and Rich let his arms fall to his sides. "Are you going to say anything?"

Cas looked up and away. "What is there to say, really? I mean, you're not wrong." He looked back to Rich. "But I don't really have any plans on stopping."

"And why is that?" Rich pressed.

Cas looked away, unsure of what to say. Every excuse that came to mind sounded like bullshit; probably because it was. Finally he looked back to Rich and snapped, "Do you have any idea what it's like living with a paranoid schizophrenic drug addicted trauma survivor?" He paused, taking a deep breath. "I need my own fucking escape to keep me sane, Rich."

Rich frowned. "You can't blame Dean, Cas. You've got to take responsibility for your own actions."

Cas huffed a sigh, rolling his eyes. "I'm not _blam_ \- Can we please just drop it?"

Rich studied him for a moment, eyes narrowed, before shaking his head. "Fine. Whatever. I've gotta go to work anyway." He yanked open the door to his truck. "Enjoy yourself." He climbed in, started the truck, and drove off.

Cas rounded the hood of the Impala and climbed into the drivers seat, angrily untying the knot in his bag. He made up a fat line on the back of some paperwork from one of their original visits to the clinic, but it was pointless. It wouldn't come close to the first line of the day, and it would probably never compare to when he first started using.

He knew Rich was right, but what the hell was he supposed to do about it? He'd tried to stop a few times already, and he ended up depressed, miserable, and angry. He'd never felt so out of control before, and he hated it. He stared down at the powder in his lap until his eyes started to sting and a tear landed on the paper. After that one broke free, it made way for the rest of them, and he was full-blown crying when he heard the passenger door open.

"Cas? What's wrong?" Dean asked worriedly. He'd seen Rich leave and when Cas didn't return, he decided to come see what was going on. He popped open the back door so Cujo could hop in before closing it and dropping himself into the passenger seat.

Cas wiped his eyes with the heels of his palms. "Nothing," he mumbled, refusing to look at Dean.

"Come on, Cas, you can tell me," he said softly.

Cas was quiet for a few seconds before looking up at Dean and meeting his eyes. "What are we doing?"

Dean knitted his eyebrows together. "...What?"

"What are we doing?" Cas repeated, looking down at the drugs in his lap. "How much longer can we live like this?" Dean had been home for over three months, and aside from a few arguments here and there, they hadn't made any attempts to get their drug use under control.

Dean opened and closed his mouth a few times. "I... I don't know," he eventually mumbled.

Cas bit his bottom lip into his mouth and nodded, leaning forward to pull a cut-in-half straw from the glove box. Dean watched as he leaned down and snorted the line in his lap. He leaned back again, tilting his head back and rubbing his forehead with his palm to help it settle. When he brought his head forward again and opened his eyes, only a small ring of blue was visible around his blown pupils.

"Feel better?" Dean asked hesitantly.

Cas nodded. He knew it would only be for a little while, but that's what the rest of the bag was for- and the next one, and the next one. "So, uh... good news on those results, huh?" he said, a grin slowly spreading across his face as his worries faded into the background of his mind.

Dean grinned back. "Yeah." He paused. "You should let me suck your dick."

Cas' eyes widened. "That sounds like an excellent idea."

Dean scooted closer, reaching forward and beginning to undo Cas' belt buckle. Cas lifted his hips a bit as Dean tugged his pants down to mid-way down his thighs. He took his dick in his hand, watching excitedly as Cas responded to his gentle strokes.

Cas tilted his head back with a sigh and Dean leaned forward, huffing out a warm breath over the head of Cas' cock. Cas rolled his head forward again, looking down at Dean and placing his hand on the back of his neck. Dean parted his lips, pressing them down onto the head and suckling lightly.

Cas let out a low groan, sliding his fingers up into the hair on the back of Dean's head. Dean pushed down further, enveloping the head and half of the shaft as he stroked what wasn't in his mouth. He moved up and down slowly, pressing his flattened tongue to the underside.

"Dean..." Cas groaned, "I missed this so much." They were pretty sure oral with protection would be pointless, so they'd simply abstained until receiving the final results from their tests.

Dean slid off, continuing to stroke him with his hand. He hovered right above Cas' cock and looked up, meeting his eyes. "Me too." They stared into each others eyes for a moment before Dean looked back down at Cas in his hand. "We should burn all our condoms."

Cas huffed a laugh that was cut short by Dean diving back down onto him again. He inhaled sharply, gritting his teeth. "Fuck," he hissed. He watched Dean, chest rising and falling as he breathed heavily. Before his brain could catch up with his mouth, he heard himself breathing out, "You are so fucking hot, sucking me off where anyone can see us."

Dean lifted his head just long enough to say, "I love when you talk."

"Yeah?" Cas grinned. He tightened his grip in his hair. "Look at me," he uttered. Dean raised his eyes and continued to suck. "You don't even care who sees us, do you? You just wanna please me." He paused, waiting for a response, and Dean nodded lightly. "You're so good," Cas murmured.

Dean had to close his eyes as a shudder ran through him and his dick sprung to life in his pants. He moaned onto Cas' cock and pushed down farther, taking him in as far as he could.

"Do you like when I call you that?" Cas asked, his voice low and rough. Dean nodded, hollowing his cheeks and sucking harder. "You're such a good boy," Cas groaned, tightening the grip he had on his hair. Dean involuntarily rutted his hips a bit into nothing, searching for friction. Cas pulsed in his mouth, and he threw his head back as he came undone, coming hard down Dean's throat.

Dean swallowed around him as Cas stilled, before lazily pulling off. Fingers still gripping his hair, Cas brought his other hand down to cup Dean's face, pulling him up and leaning down to crush their mouths together. He darted his tongue in, tasting himself in Dean's mouth.

"Jesus, Cas," Dean breathed when they broke apart.

Cas finally let his hand fall from Dean's hair, his flushed cheeks growing darker. "I- Was that weird?"

"What? No," Dean said quickly. "That was, uh... really hot," he mumbled, straightening up a bit.

Cas lips spread into a lazy grin as he stared at Dean for a moment before suddenly remembering they were in public. He quickly lifted his hips to pull his pants back up, only yanking up the zipper. He let his head fall back again and closed his eyes, sighing and bringing his hands up to wipe the sweat from his face. Across the seat, Dean lit two cigarettes and held one out to him.

A few minutes passed before Cas mumbled, "Sorry I come so fast," looking out the window and taking a drag off his cigarette.

"It's okay-" Dean started.

"It's the coke," Cas added quickly, turning to meet his eyes.

"I know, Cas." Dean smiled. "It's okay."

Cas nodded, started the car, and began the drive home.

.

The first thing Cas noticed when he turned off the water was music. He stepped out of the tub and slowly wrapped the towel around his waist, straining to hear the chords through the wall.

It was Dean. Cas grinned. Dean hadn't played since he came back, or at least not when Cas was around. He cracked open the bathroom door and the music became clearer, along with Dean's voice.

_"There are times when all the world's asleep,_   
_the questions run too deep for such a simple man._   
_Won't you please, please tell me what we've learned._   
_I know it sounds absurd, but please tell me who I am."_

Cas exited the bathroom and hovered in the doorway to the bedroom, watching Dean, who was seated on his side of the bed, back to the door.

_"Now watch what you say or they'll be calling you a radical, liberal, fanatical, criminal._   
_Won't you sign up your name? We'd like to feel you're acceptable, respectable, presentable, a vegetable!_

_At night, when all the world's asleep,_   
_The questions run so deep for such a simple man._   
_Won't you please, please tell me what we've learned_   
_I know it sounds absurd, but please tell me who I ammm, who I ammm, who I ammm-"_

"I missed hearing you play," Cas announced from the doorway.

Dean stopped strumming and turned quickly. "Shit! ...How long have you been standing there?"

Cas smiled. "Long enough to appreciate your talent."

Dean's face flushed, and he turned back around to set the guitar against the wall. "I missed playing," he mumbled.

Cas moved towards the bed. "What else did you miss?"

Dean twisted around to look up at him. "You. And Cujo. And cooked food, and the Impala." He looked down, running his hand along the bedspread. "Our bed."

Cas dropped his towel and climbed onto the bed. He came up behind Dean, placing his hand on his arm and kissing along his shoulder. "Will you play for me again?"

"Play what?"

Cas shrugged, dropping his head to lean his forehead on Dean's shoulder. "I don't care. Anything."

Dean was quiet for a moment before grinning. "Okay." He stood up and grabbed the guitar, and Cas scooted back on the bed to lean back against the headboard. As soon as Dean started strumming, Cas recognized the song and clapped his hands together excitedly.

" _My sister got lucky, married a yuppie, took him for all he was worth. Now she's a swinger, dating a singer. I can't decide which is worse._ " He took a deep breath and looked Cas right in the eyes. " _But not me, baby, I got you to save me. Oh, yer so bad, best thing I ever had. In a world gone mad, yer so bad._ " He closed his eyes. " _My sister's ex-husband can't get no lovin', walks around dog-faced and hurt. Now he's got nothin', head in the oven, I can't decide which is worse._ " He opened his eyes and leapt up onto the bed to stand in front of Cas, looking down at him as he belted out the chorus. " _But not me, baby, I got you to save me. Oh, yer so bad, best thing I ever had. In a world gone mad, yer so bad._ "

He lowered himself onto the mattress on his knees, straddling Cas' thighs. They both leaned in for a kiss, which ended up with Dean setting down the guitar so he could cup Cas' face in his hands. They explored each other mouths, as if it was the first time all over again, until Dean pulled back to look into Cas' eyes.

"I love you, Cas."

Cas grinned. "I remember when you couldn't even say that."

Dean dropped his head a bit, chuckling softly. "Now I don't ever wanna stop," he mumbled.

"And I don't want you to," Cas said, taking Dean's chin in his hand and tilting his head up to kiss him again.

* * *

"Happy Birthday Cujo!" Cas yelled, spreading his arms wide as he rushed into the living room. Cujo barked excitedly, dancing in place before running to his toy bin and pulling out a toy.

Dean exited the bedroom, holding a large cardboard box. "Forget those, Cujo, come open your present." Cujo ran up to him with the ratty shell of a de-stuffed toy, dropping it at his feet. Dean knelt down and started tearing open the packing tape on the box. "What's in here, Cujo?" he asked excitedly. "What is that?"

Cujo began pawing at the box, and as Dean pulled the tape back he shoved his head in-between the flaps. He suddenly stiffened and began trying to pull his head back out, but it was stuck. Once Dean yanked off the last of the tape, Cujo popped out, with two different toys in his mouth. He shook his head violently, and one toy that he must have had a poor grip on went flying across the room.

Cas watched with amusement as Dean held the box for Cujo to root through the rest. He pulled them out one by one, dropping them on the floor, until the box was empty. Dean picked up each toy, throwing it across the room. Cujo ran off to fetch it, bringing it back and dropping it before going after the next one Dean had thrown.

Dean looked up at Cas and caught him staring. He broke into an uneasy grin. "What?"

"Nothing," Cas said with a shrug. "I just love how much you love Cujo."

Dean laughed, looking to Cujo again, who was across the room shaking the life out of one of his new toys. "I'm glad you pushed me to get a dog."

Cas walked over to him, kneeling down next to him and placing a kiss on his cheek. "Sometimes it's good to step out of your comfort zone."

Dean blushed a bit. "Well, I'm glad I have you to help me, because otherwise I'd be screwed."

Cas smiled. "Are you hungry?"

Dean shrugged. "Kind of. But you don't have to cook or anything."

Cas stood up and went into the kitchen, and after a few minutes of rummaging around, he sighed. "We don't have much that hasn't gone bad." Neither of them had been eating much, so keeping the fridge stocked hadn't really been priority. "I can make you a tuna fish sandwich."

"That's fine," Dean said over his shoulder as he played with Cujo. "Thank you." He played with Cujo for a few more minutes, until Cas returned with two sandwiches. He stood up and they sat down on the couch to eat. "Is Rich coming over with Max?" Dean asked around a mouthful of food.

Cas shrugged. "I haven't really talked to him much since we went to the beach."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "That was like a week ago."

"Yeah," Cas agreed.

Dean was quiet, chewing his food and awaiting further explanation. When he got none, he continued. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No," Cas said quickly. "I did."

"What did you do?" Dean asked.

"He tried to talk to me about something and I was kind of a dick about it," he mumbled, looking down at the sandwich in his hands.

"Oh," Dean said quietly.

"I mean, it's not like we're not talking," Cas continued. "We just haven't talked much."

"I was wondering why he hasn't been around," Dean shrugged. "Do you want _me_ to ask him to bring Max?"

"No, I'll ask him," Cas said quietly. He set his sandwich down and pulled out his phone. _'Hey... Its cujos birthday. Do you want to bring max over so they can play?_

Rich texted him back quickly. _'sure. im out of work at 4. ill pick him up and come over.'_

"He'll be here around four-thirty," Cas said, setting his phone down on the coffee table. Just as he did, it began ringing. He reached forward and grabbed it again, and, seeing it was his mom, answered it. "Salut, ma."

"Pourquoi as-tu arrêté d'aller à l'école?" she asked quickly.

Dean watched Cas' face fall and he stammered for a moment before blinking. "Quelle?"

"On vient de rentrer à la maison et on a reçu une lettre de ton école! Qu'est-ce qu'il se passe?"

"Uh... J'arrête," he mumbled.

Dean could hear her through the phone. " _Pourquoi_ _?!_ "

Cas winced at the volume of her voice. "Parce que... je ne sais pas ce que je veux faire."

"Tu ferais mieux de trouver, Castiel!" she scolded. "Ou de trouver un travail."

"Okay..." Cas mumbled. He slowly pulled the phone from his ear and tapped the screen to end the call.

"What the hell was that about?" Dean asked.

Cas frowned, setting his phone back down again. "She said she got a letter from my school," he said quietly. "She wanted to know why I'm not going. When I told her I didn't know what I wanted to do, she... she told me to either figure it out, or get a job."

Dean frowned. "Ouch."

Cas picked up his sandwich again. "They aren't going to cut me off just because I dropped out, don't worry."

Dean stared at the side of his face. "Until they find out what you're doing."

"How would they even find out?" he asked, still staring at his half-eaten sandwich. He suddenly didn't feel very hungry anymore.

"Well... you're going to have to _visit_ them sooner or later, aren't you?" Dean pressed.

Cas shrugged. "They enabled my brother for years."

Dean pursed his lips. "And you don't think they actually learned anything from that?"

Cas was quiet for a moment, as if he hadn't thought of that, before shrugging again. "We'll see."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs Used:  
> [Supertramp - The Logical Song (1979)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mh3Kk5tZSmo)  
> [Tom Petty - Yer So Bad (1989)](https://youtu.be/WdRViFCvvUo?t=20s)
> 
>  
> 
> Translations:
> 
> "Salut, ma." (Hi, mom- should be maman, but I shortened it as they speak both French and English and I figure Cas often mixes them together)
> 
> "Pourquoi as-tu arrêté d'aller à l'école?" (Why have you stopped going to school?)
> 
> "Quelle?" (What?)
> 
> "On vient de rentrer à la maison et on a reçu une lettre de ton école! Qu'est-ce qu'il se passe?" (We just returned home and received a letter from your school! What is going on?)
> 
> "Uh...J'arrête." (literally "I stopped", meant as "I quit.")
> 
> "Pourquoi?!" (Why?!)
> 
> "Parce que... je ne sais pas ce que je veux faire." (Because... I do not know what I want to do.)
> 
> "Tu ferais mieux de trouver, Castiel! Ou de trouver un travail" (You better find out, Castiel! Or get a job.)


	78. Chapter 78

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so... much... smut... *dies*
> 
> P.S. I fucking love you guys

Dean sat on the edge of the bed, fumbling with the empty baggie between his fingers. He was pretty sure he shouldn't be out already, but he'd checked everywhere, and sure enough, he was. It had only been two or three hours since he'd last used, but he didn't want to wait for withdrawal. It wasn't even about that, anyway, it was about being- and staying- too high to think. He swallowed hard and rose to his feet. He had to ask Cas. Even though it was an almost daily occurrence, he hated this part; he _hated_ asking Cas for money. Even though it wasn't even Cas', Cas did nothing to earn it, and Cas always insisted it wasn't a problem, he still felt _bad_.

He shuffled out into the living room, where Cas was on the couch, feet tucked underneath himself as he read a book.

He cleared his throat. "Hey, Cas?"

Cas didn't look up from his book. He didn't read often anymore, but he was trying to cut back on the coke, and reading helped distract him... until it gave him a headache. "Hmm?"

Dean looked down at his feet. "I, uh... I kinda need some money," he mumbled, standing awkwardly in front of the couch. "To go see Craig."

Cas chewed his lip. He was still staring down at his book, but his eyes had stopped moving along with the words. "Not right now, Dean."

Dean's face fell. "What? Why?"

"Because... I've been thinking about it, and I'm not going to keep enabling you to slowly kill yourself. You have to cut back," he said matter-of-factly.

Dean was quiet for a moment, and Cas could feel him glaring at him. "You're such a fucking hypocrite," he said finally.

Cas lowered his book, finally looking up at Dean. "I haven't used in six fucking hours, thank you very much," he said smugly.

"Oh yeah, like that's gonna fuckin' last," Dean snapped. Cas narrowed his eyes, but didn't say anything. "So, what, you're just gonna let me get dopesick?" Dean continued. "What the fuck?" Still nothing from Cas, although he looked like he was thinking of something to say. "You realize letting me live here and paying for everything is still enabling, right?"

Cas was trying so hard to not argue, but he finally took the bait. "So what do you want me to do, Dean? Am I supposed to kick you out?" he asked angrily. "Because I'm not going to do that. I'm never going to do that. But that still doesn't mean I have to let you spend every waking moment doped up." He set his book down on his lap and crossed his arms, glaring at Dean. "And I'm not giving you any of my medication, either."

"Why?!" Dean protested. "You don't even take it anymore 'cause it ruins your high!"

"And how do you know that?"

"Because you've got like six full bottles," Dean muttered.

"How do you know that?" Cas asked again, his face falling. "Have you been taking my pills?"

"No," Dean said quickly. "What the fuck, Cas?" He shook his head. "No!" If he was doing that, he wouldn't be arguing with Cas right now... about going to see Craig _right_ _now_. He would've just taken Cas' 'I'll take you later' with a shrug, gone into Cas' nightstand, and swallowed four or five Percs.

Cas frowned and uncrossed his arms. "I'll take you in a few hours, okay?"

Dean bit his lip into his mouth, looking up and away, before looking back to Cas. "Cas, I _really_ need to go now."

"How long has it been?" Cas asked quietly.

Dean hesitated before answering, "Six hours."

Cas narrowed his eyes. "You're lying."

Dean scoffed and looked away. How could Cas always tell? "Cas, come _on_."

"No," Cas said firmly.

After a beat of silence, Dean growled, "Fine," and Cas could hear the frustration and anger in his voice. He could tell Dean was so worked up he was about to angry-cry. "Fuck you," he muttered through gritted teeth, still looking away from Cas. "I'll go earn my own fucking money." He swiped his keys off the table and stomped over to the door, grabbing his jacket and yanking it on.

A lump formed in Cas' throat. As much as hearing _fuck you_ from Dean really hurt his feelings, he was honestly more concerned about Dean's last comment. He jumped up from the couch and spun around, his book falling from his lap to the floor. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Take a fuckin' guess," Dean snapped, reaching for the door handle. He was planning on hustling pool, but Cas didn't need to know that. He paused with his hand on the doorknob, waiting for Cas to say something.

Cas stared at the back of his head for a moment before lowering his head in resignation. "Fine." He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, throwing three twenties at Dean. They fell pathetically short, landing just over the couch on the floor.

Dean turned around, crossed his arms, and looked down at the floor, feeling guilty. He felt horrible for what he'd said to Cas, and the defeat in Cas' voice made him feel like a manipulative asshole, but he was too proud to apologize. And what was the point, anyway? He was just going to do it again, and again, and again. If he was really sorry, why couldn't he just _stop_? "Now I don't want it," he mumbled. Truth be told, he really didn't, but he _needed_ it.

"Oh, bullshit, Dean," Cas spat. "You're not fooling anyone. Just take the fucking money and get out of my face." He turned back around and plopped down onto the couch.

He could feel Dean hesitating behind him, but then he heard him picking up the money, followed by the door closing behind him. He picked up his book and tried to continue reading, but he just ended up throwing it across the room and breaking out his bag as Cujo whined from his bed.

An hour later, his phone went off with a text message. Seeing it was Dean, he opened it quickly, feeling cautiously relieved. He'd spent the last hour worrying about whether or not Dean was alive, let alone coming back. He would never forgive himself if his last words to Dean were 'get out of my face'.

_'im sorry cas'_

Cas sighed. _'Youre always sorry'_ , he wrote back, his eyes beginning to sting. _'Why do you have to be a dick?'_ He typed out and sent one more. _'And im sorry too'_

_'idk. i jus get really angry somtimes an i dont kno how to handle it'_

_'Well it's not fair to take it out on me'_ , Cas responded. He wiped his face with his palm.

 _'i know.'_ Another one came through immediately after. _'im sorry'_

 _'When are you coming home?'_ he replied.

 _'if yu want me home, ill come now'_ , Dean wrote back.

_'Of course I want you home Dean'_

_'ok im comin'_

Cas worried his lip between his teeth. _'Are you okay to drive?'_

_'yah'_

_'Please be careful'_

_'i will'_

Dean walked in the door twenty minutes later, and he immediately sat down on the couch and took Cas in his arms. "I'm sorry, Cas," he mumbled into his shoulder, gripping the back of Cas' shirt in his fist.

"I know, Dean," Cas mumbled, hugging him tightly. "I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't just cut you off without warning."

Dean squeezed Cas a little tighter. "It doesn' matter, Cas," he slurred. "I shouldn' talk to you like that."

"Yeah," Cas said softly, nodding into Dean's shoulder. He was quiet for a moment. "I was so scared you weren't going to come back," he whispered, his voice breaking.

"I'll always come back, I promise. You know I'm nev'r leavin' you again. ...Not 'til I'm dead."

Cas broke away, sniffling a bit. "I wish you wouldn't drive like this."

Dean looked down at their laps. "I'm fine, Cas."

Cas lifted his hand to place it on Dean's cheek. "I can tell you're not, Dean," he said softly.

Dean leaned into his touch for a split second before turning his head away. "I don't wanna argue, Cas," he said roughly.

Cas nodded. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

Dean staggered to his feet. "Please stop sayin' that," he muttered, turning away. "I'm the one who keeps fuckin' up."

"Okay," Cas said softly. He knew there was no point in trying to discuss it, as Dean was obviously having one of his bad days, and fighting him on the self-degradation only made things worse.

Dean walked towards the bedroom, stopping at the hallway, his back to Cas. "Come to bed?" he rasped, swaying slightly before leaning against the wall.

"Yeah," Cas mumbled. "I'm just going to let Cujo out again." Dean nodded and disappeared into the bedroom as Cas stood up. "Come on, Cujo," he called. Cujo jumped up from his bed and followed Cas to the door. Cas smoked a cigarette as Cujo sniffed around the yard and did his business. When he ran back in the door, Cas dropped his cigarette into the ashtray and followed him in. He locked the door behind him and made his way to the bedroom.

Dean was lying on his back on the bed, in only his boxers. Cas quickly got undressed and hit the light as Dean got up to pull the blanket back so they could both climb underneath. They laid on their backs, staring up into the darkness.

Dean's scratchy voice finally cut through the silence. "Cas?"

"Yes?" Dean was quiet for a full minute. "...Dean?"

Dean sighed. "I... I wanna say sorry, but I feel like it doesn't mean anythin' anymore."

"I know you're sorry," Cas said softly. "It's okay."

"The fuck did I do to d'serve you?"

Cas rolled over and placed his hand on Dean's chest. "You're a good man, Dean. You just have some stuff you need to work on... But I will always be here for you, no matter what you're going through. Okay?"

Dean reached up to place his hand over Cas'. "Okay."

* * *

It was a rainy afternoon, and they'd spent the day lying in bed. Dean was dozing off and Cas was reading when his phone went off with a text from Rich.

"Dean."

"Huh?" Dean mumbled.

"Rich has invited us to the movies."

Dean groaned. "I don't really wanna move."

Cas rolled over to nuzzle his nose into Dean's neck. "Come on, Dean. It's not until six. We can get some popcorn... and afterwards you can fuck me in the back of the Impala."

Dean opened his eyes. "Okay, I'm up." A small, lop-sided grin appeared on his face.

Cas snickered. "I knew that would get you." He rolled away from Dean and stood up. "I'm going to go let Cujo out."

"Okay." Dean laid in bed for a few more minutes before dragging himself out of bed. He walked out into the living room, and Cujo was already back inside, sprawled out on the couch, and Cas was in the shower. He figured he should shower, too, especially if they had plans for sex. He zoned out in front of the TV, stroking Cujo, until he heard the bathroom door open. He took his shower and got dressed, and by five they were ready to go.

When they got to the theater, Cas pulled out his phone to text Rich and frowned. "Um... okay... Rich just canceled. Said he had an emergency."

"Really?" Dean paused. "I hope everything's okay."

"Me too." He squinted across the parking lot at the building. "You still want to see the movie?"

Dean shrugged. "If you want. Or we can just go park somewhere and fuck in the car."

Cas grinned. "Sounds good." He paused, his eyes flicking back to the building. "But I was thinking... we could still see the movie and also fool around in the theater."

Dean grinned back. "You're really liking this public thing, huh?" Cas bit his lip and nodded. "Okay," Dean said with finality. "Let's go." They climbed out of the car, slamming the doors behind them, and Dean unloaded Cujo and let him pee on a bush before they headed inside. Cas bought two tickets and a bucket of popcorn at the concession stand.

"So, I got tickets for a movie that starts at six-thirty so we're early and can get a seat in the back," Cas said as they left the lobby.

Dean nodded. "What are we seeing?"

Cas shrugged. "Some R-rated horror movie. I figured there won't be too much light coming from the screen, and there shouldn't be any kids in the theater. I may be horny but I have no desire to expose myself in front of children." Dean snickered. They approached the usher and he checked their tickets before pointing them in the direction of the correct theater.

As they walked off, Cas on the right and Dean on the left, Dean said, "See, this is why I love you. Not for this." He quickly swung his hand to the side and grabbed Cas' crotch, eliciting a small startled noise from Cas, before bringing it up to pat Cas' head. "But for this."

Cas just stared at him and grinned. "Why must you grope me in public?"

"Oh, I'm gonna do a lot more than that," Dean retorted.

Cas gripped the popcorn tub a little tighter, turning to look straight ahead again as they approached their theater. Sure enough, upon entry, it was empty, so they took the seats in the back corner.

"Open Cujo's bag. The left one. There's a blanket folded up in there."

"A whole blanket? Why?" Dean questioned.

"It's just a thin throw blanket. So he doesn't have to lay on the sticky floor," Cas explained, popping a piece of popcorn into his mouth.

"I didn't even think of that," Dean mumbled. He reached for Cujo's vest, which Cas had just recently attached two small canvas saddle bags to, and unzipped the left side. Sure enough, a neatly folded blanket was stuffed inside. "What would I do without you?" Dean asked, unfolding it and placing it on the floor in front of the empty seat next to them.

Cas shrugged, although they both knew the answer to that.

Dean pointed to the blanket. " _Lay_." Cujo immediately dropped down onto the blanket. "Good boy. _Stay_." Cujo lowered his head onto his front paws and closed his eyes.

The movie started, and the theater remained fairly empty. Cas figured the movie must have been in theaters for a while already. He remembered seeing previews on TV, but he had no idea how long the movie had actually been out. Time flew by pretty quickly when you spent it all either high or asleep.

Finally, half an hour in, the scenes were getting dark and there was a lot of noise on-screen. Dean slid his hand onto Cas' thigh, squeezing tightly before moving it to cover Cas' crotch and palming him through his jeans. Knowing exactly what was in store, Cas was already growing hard. Dean reached over with his other hand to undo Cas' jeans, and with a quick look around, he sunk down from his seat and twisted around, positioning himself between Cas' legs. Cas could barely see him, concealed in the shadows behind the row of seats in front of them, but he could make out enough to see Dean's fingers as he stroked him roughly, and his tongue coming out to wet his lips. Cas bit his own lip into his mouth. It turned him on like crazy the way Dean seemed to always be hungry for his cock.

Dean sunk down onto him, and Cas was thankful he was biting down on his lip to stifle the moan that almost escaped. Dean rose and fell quickly, stroking the little bit that wasn't in his mouth, keeping his eyes trained on Cas. Cas stared back at him, eyes wide and barely blinking, before the head of his cock bumped the back of Dean's throat and he had to close his eyes and focus on being silent.

A few minutes passed, Cas twisting his fingers into Dean's hair and yanking roughly as Dean closed his eyes and moaned around his cock. As he neared completion, he couldn't keep his mouth closed anymore.

"Dean," he murmured. Dean opened his eyes to meet Cas'. "So good," Cas said softly. "Best... I've ever had." He took a deep breath. "Such a good boy for me," he moaned, desperately trying to keep his voice down as he quickly came undone. Dean hollowed his cheeks and pushed down as far as he could, and that did it for Cas. He came down Dean's throat with a loud grunt, mercifully drowned out by a woman screaming as she was attacked on-screen. Dean swallowed him down before popping off and quickly stuffing Cas' softening dick back into his pants. He straightened up and turned, plopping back down into his seat. His eyes quickly scanned the theater, and none of the few other patrons scattered around seemed to be any the wiser.

He leaned over and they kissed, soft and slow, as the movie continued, ignored, on the screen. After a few minutes, they pulled apart and Dean laid his head on Cas' shoulder. Cas brought his arm up to wrap it around Dean, who stared at the screen, although he wasn't really paying attention. Sometimes, he felt more and more like a girl these days, but he couldn't find it in himself to even care. All he wanted was to please Cas, and the praise that would fall from his lips was just the icing on the cake. Dean could tell he was so loving, so _sincere_ , and it made him feel wanted.

The movie still had twenty minutes to go when they left. Maybe at the time, Dean didn't care if anybody saw, but after the fact, he wasn't sure he could look any of the other patrons in the eye. Cas was itching for a cigarette anyway, so when he asked if Dean was even paying attention to the movie, Dean quickly shook his head and they made their exit. They made it out into the parking lot and Dean opened the back door for Cujo before lowering himself into the front seat.

Cas blew a stream of smoke out of the window before turning to Dean. "I enjoyed that very much, Dean."

Dean's face flushed a bit. "I did, too."

"What do you say we go find somewhere to take care of you?"

Dean bit his lip into his mouth and nodded. "Okay."

Cas put the car in reverse and backed out of the spot. He drove them to the beach and parked in a spot away from the few other cars in the lot. Cas looked around quickly before snorting a line and hopping into the backseat. He urged Cujo to jump into the front as Dean climbed into the back to join Cas.

Dean gently pushed him backwards, lowering himself onto him and taking his mouth in his own. They sloppily made out for a few minutes until Dean pulled off to catch his breath and undo Cas' pants. Cas propped himself up on his elbows to watch as Dean slid the jeans, along with Cas' boxer briefs, down and off before taking Cas in his hand. He was already growing hard, and Dean quickly stroked him to fullness, then ducked down and took him in his mouth.

Cas screwed his eyes shut, a low groan escaping his throat. Dean bobbed for only a minute before popping off and trailing down, still stroking Cas with his hand. He mustered up as much spit as he could, letting go of Cas and spreading him open with his thumbs. He pressed his flattened tongue against Cas, digging his thumbs into his soft skin, then pushed his tongue inside.

Cas' entire body twitched as he took in a sharp inhale of breath. Dean continued darting his tongue in and out, opening and slicking Cas up the best he could. Cas' legs were shaking as he dropped his head back, moaning up towards the roof of the car.

"Dean," Cas groaned after a few minutes. "Hurry up."

Dean lifted his head slightly to look at Cas. "Just can't wait, huh?" he teased.

Cas lifted his head to stare back. "Just fuck me, dammit," he growled.

Dean blinked slowly, then closed his eyes, reaching down to palm his dick through his jeans. "Fuck, Cas," he groaned. He leaned back and began to unfasten his pants. "You have no idea what you do to me." He pushed them down and took his dick in his hand, stroking slowly as he inched forward and leaned over Cas. "Ready?"

"Yes," Cas said impatiently.

Dean brought his hand up to his mouth, depositing a decent amount of spit into his palm. He quickly stroked himself again, then lined himself up and pressed the tip to Cas' hole, slowly rubbing the head back and forth across the ring of muscle.

"Dean," Cas warned.

Dean couldn't _not_ listen to Cas- not about this. He pressed the head in, and Cas' lips parted and he huffed out a sigh as Dean lowered his head and gritted his teeth. He pushed in farther, stopping about half-way in and bringing his hand away to plant it on the seat next to Cas. Suddenly Cas' hands found Dean's ass cheeks, and he gripped them tightly and pulled Dean towards him. Dean got the message, pushing his hips forward farther until he was completely buried in Cas.

Cas rolled his hips, eliciting a gasp from Dean, who was stock-still. "Move," Cas commanded.

Dean pulled back a bit and slammed forward again, forcing a whimper out of Cas. He brought his arms up to Dean's back, balling his fists into his tee-shirt. Dean pulled back again, nearly all the way, then thrust his hips in again... and again, and again. He reached between them and took Cas' swollen cock in his hand, stroking roughly. Within thirty seconds Cas was whimpering and coming over Dean's fist.

Dean let him go, wiping his hand on Cas' stomach and reaching down to grab Cas' cheeks and pull his hips up. Still riding his orgasm, Cas let his legs dangle as Dean fucked into him.

"Ugh, you feel _so good_ ," Dean grunted, teeth gritted and sweat accumulating on his forehead. Cas' only response was another long moan as Dean hit his prostate over and over. Dean slid his hand forward to feel Cas' stomach when he felt something... different. "Is... is that..." he panted. He moved his hands back to Cas' hips and spread his thumbs, and sure enough, with every thrust, he could feel his dick inside Cas. "Cas," he gasped. "Feel." He reached blindly, finding one of Cas' hands in the dark, and led it to Cas' lower stomach, right above his dick.

Cas lifted his head, although he couldn't see much in the dark. "Holy... shit..." he breathed.

"Does it hurt?" Dean asked quickly, slowing his pace a bit but still continuing to thrust into him.

"No," Cas groaned, dropping his head back again. "It's... amazing. Don't stop."

Dean picked up his pace again, slamming into Cas as Cas took himself in his shaking hand. He began jerking roughly and erratically, trying to keep up with Dean's thrusts, and a few times, he could feel Dean against his thumb through his abdomen. Within minutes, Cas came again, clenching his muscles around Dean, and at this, Dean came as well, digging his nails into Cas' hips and filling him up. He felt like the air had been punched out of his lungs, and he collapsed backwards into the door, pulling out of Cas and dropping him onto the seat as he did so.

After a few minutes of recollecting themselves, Cas located a beach towel on the floor in the backseat and used it to clean himself up. They fixed their clothes, traded places with Cujo, and lit two cigarettes. Cas started the Impala and turned the defrosters on to clear the fogged up windows.

"I love you so fucking much, Cas, you have no idea," Dean said quietly, staring out at the water.

Cas turned to him, catching his eyes in the moonlight. "I think I do." Dean only grinned sheepishly in response.

A few minutes passed before Dean was digging through his bag for his gear. "You can't wait the fifteen minutes until we get home?" Cas asked.

"No," Dean mumbled, holding the needle upside down and tapping it to bring any air bubbles to the surface. "Can you turn the light on?"

Cas let out a small sigh, reaching up to turn on the interior lights. As soon as Dean found his vein, he shut it back off. "I guess we should head home," Cas said.

Dean leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes. "Yeah."

They pulled into the driveway, and Cas put the car in park and shut her off. He popped open the door and got out, opening the back door so Cujo could hop out. He ran to the grass and lifted his leg as Cas locked up the car behind Dean and lit a cigarette. Cujo continued sniffing, and as they waited for him, they embraced in the driveway. Dean wrapped his arms around Cas' waist, leaning into him, dropping his forehead onto his shoulder. After a moment, he lifted his head to drag his lips up Cas' neck, trailing sloppy kisses along his skin.

Cas dropped his head back and sighed contently. "Wanna go for round two?" he said towards the sky.

"Mhmm," Dean murmured. "But it's gonna take me forever to come."

"That's fine with me," Cas chuckled. He heard the jingling of Cujo's tags and looked down to see him standing at their side. "You ready to go in Cujo?" Cujo stared up at him and cocked his head.

They made their way towards the door, Dean stumbling along next to Cas, one arm still wrapped around his waist and still licking and sucking on his neck. Cas held his cigarette in his mouth, squirming a bit at the sensation and fumbling with his keys as his dick began hardening in his pants. Finally he got a hold of the correct key and pushed the door open, stepping into the house as Cujo pushed past them and ran into the living room.

Cas lifted his head and immediately his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open, his lit cigarette falling to the floor. He stiffened, but Dean didn't seem to notice, continuing to lazily kiss his neck.

"Uh..." Cas swallowed audibly. "Dean."

"Hmm?" Dean lifted his head a bit, and, noticing Cas staring straight ahead, turned his own head to look towards the couch. His heart stopped when he saw three faces staring back at him- Rich, Mrs. Novak, and _Sam_.


	79. Chapter 79

As Cujo rushed back to his side, the first thing that went through Dean's mind was how the fuck they got into the house. Beside him, Cas reanimated, and bent down to pick up his cigarette, tossing it out the front door. He placed his hand on Dean's lower back, nudging him forward, and Dean took two fumbling steps before he heard Cas closing the door behind them.

The tension in the air was so thick Dean thought he would choke on it, as he struggled to comprehend why they were even here- until it dawned on him that this was an intervention. He blinked slowly, eyes moving past Rich and Mrs. Novak to Sam, who had certainly grown even in just the six months since he'd last seen him. Dread filled him as he realized Sam may have had no idea how bad things still were, unless Cas had been keeping him informed.

He wanted to rush Sam and bear hug him, but embarrassment and anxiety rooted him to the spot. Cujo was nudging and licking at his fingers. He lowered his head, jumping slightly when Cas placed his hand on his lower back and again nudged him forward. Cas brushed past him, making his way towards the couch, and Dean followed, keeping his eyes trained on Cas' shoes. He lowered himself onto the couch next to Cas, glancing up to see Mrs. Novak was seated on the opposite side of the couch, next to Cas, and the coffee table had been pushed back so Rich and Sam could sit on it.

"How... how did..." Dean trailed off as Cujo, standing in front of him, lowered his head into his lap and stared up at him.

"Well," Rich started, "I tried reaching out to Cas' mom, but let's just say contacting a French celebrity is just as difficult as it sounds. Then I remembered you said you had a brother, so I searched on Facebook and got lucky enough to find a Winchester that I had a mutual friend with." He glanced at Cas, then back to Dean. "I was also lucky that he knew Cas' mom quite well- well enough to be able to reach out to her, at least."

Cas was fidgeting with his fingers in his lap, and Dean could hear his breathing. He wasn't sure if Cas was actually breathing that loudly or his senses were just heightened in his current state of anxiety. Cujo lifted one paw to place it on his lap and try to climb onto him, but he gently pushed him back down.

"I meant..." He took a deep breath and raised his eyes to Rich. "How did you get in the house."

"Oh," Rich said with a frown. "That wasn't easy, either. You guys had this place locked up like Fort Knox. But Sam was able to squeeze in through the bathroom window and unlock the front door."

"There's a reason," Dean mumbled, lowering his gaze again.

Rich sighed and stood up, taking a few steps away and turning around again. "Look, I'm sorry we broke into your house, alright? But this is important. Remember a few weeks ago, at the beach, I expressed concern for Cas? And I asked you to say something to him?"

Even though Dean was staring at the floor, he could feel all eyes on him, and he turned his head to look away.

"Do you remember what you told me?" Dean didn't answer, so Rich continued. "You told me to take the reigns." He paused. "Consider them taken."

Cas finally spoke up. "So this is about me?" he asked quietly, looking up sheepishly.

"It's about both of you," Sam said quickly, and Dean's head snapped up to meet his eyes. Sam's face softened, and they just stared at each other for a moment, Dean taking in how goddamned _grown-up_ he looked now, while Sam was no doubt observing how awful Dean looked. "Dean..." Sam said softly. "What happened after I saw you in Lawrence?"

Dean blinked slowly. He wasn't even sure how to answer that. He steeled himself. "I... I don't want to talk about it," he grumbled.

Rich scoffed. "That right there? Not happening anymore." Dean looked taken aback, but couldn't think of a response before Rich continued. "Your biggest problem is you won't open up, Dean. We've been friends for nearly a year and you've never confided in me. And that's fine. But Cas _has_ confided in me. And your stubbornness and unwillingness to change or even accept help is killing you both."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Why do you even care?" he muttered, crossing his arms.

"Because you're both my friends. And..." He swallowed, avoiding looking at Mrs. Novak. "I may feel partly responsible."

"What? Why?" His arms uncrossed, and beside him, Cas dropped his head into his hands.

Rich looked guilty. "Since we're all being honest here... I turned Cas on to coke." He kept his gaze away from Mrs. Novak. "I thought he could handle it," he added quickly. "There are plenty of people who can." He swallowed. "Obviously I was very wrong."

"I could fucking kill you right now," Dean growled, anger flashing in his eyes.

"Don't fucking blame me, Dean," Rich said sternly, lifting his head to narrow his eyes at Dean. "I'm no more to blame for this than Brit is for your relapse." Dean looked away again. "You're both adults, both responsible for your own choices, and we're here tonight to give you both a choice." He sat back down on the edge of the coffee table and clasped his hands together. "I believe Sam and Mrs. Novak have something to say."

"Please... call me Marie," Mrs. Novak said in her thick French accent, and Cas noticed she was fiddling with a folded piece of paper in her hands. He wasn't surprised she'd written a letter- it was hard enough speaking a second language, but doing so in such a heightened emotional state was even harder. He briefly hated himself for doing this to his mother- putting her through this all over again. He imagined how many times she had done this with Michael, how many times it had failed, how much it had put the entire family through. Before she had even unfolded the paper, he'd made a decision.

She cleared her throat and began speaking. "Castiel... When your father and I first brought you home, it was as if you had been ours all along." Dean shot Cas a confused look, as he had never told him he was adopted, but Cas was still staring down at his lap. "You were so good. You never cried, you tolerated being dragged around and photographed, passed to caretakers and assistants without protest, always taking in the world with wide, bright eyes. I always knew that you had so much potential. That you would do great things. When I got the letter from your school, I knew something was wrong. The Castiel I know loves to learn, to expand his knowledge with anything and everything he could get his hands on." She paused and took a breath, and Dean glanced up to see Rich and Sam watching her with empathy. He chanced a look at Cas, who was staring down at his lap, unblinking, tears streaking his cheeks.

She continued, her voice shaking, "I never thought I would be going through this again. When Michael died, as heartbroken as I was, I believed it was finally over. That he nor our family had to suffer anymore. We moved away to America, so you could avoid the life that led your brother down this path. Then I noticed your spending increasing exponentially. It was a red flag, but I convinced myself nothing was wrong. Then I get the letter from school, then Sam showed up at our door. I thank god that I was home, Castiel. You are so young, and life has so much to offer you. I cannot and will not make the same mistakes I made with your brother, and I will not let you make the same mistakes that he did. Learn from his mistakes, Castiel. Please let us help you. I cannot lose another son," she finished, choking out a sob. Next to her, Cas closed his eyes, sniffling deeply.

She pulled out another paper, unfolding it shakily. "Dean," she began, and Dean's heart dropped in his chest. He wasn't expecting to hear anything from Cas' mom. "I have watched you grow up with my son. You are such a genuine, caring person, and I know that you have so much to offer not only my son, but the world. I watched the two of you fall in love, although you may not have realized that was what was happening at the time." She briefly smiled weakly, but then her face fell again. "I knew something wasn't right at home, but I couldn't figure out what it was. Maybe I just didn't want to think anybody could do that to their child. I only wish I could have put it together, or that you had told us, or Castiel, because we would have taken you and Sam in with open arms." She took a deep breath and cleared her throat, gripping the paper a little tighter. "But I cannot let this continue. I want the best for both of you, and that means that both of you need to stop using, and _you_ need to take steps to manage your illness. Neither of you can lead a happy life with the path you've chosen, and I want better than that for my son and the person he loves. I..." She took a moment to collect herself. "I don't want to have to comfort one of you at the other's funeral. Please accept this help so that you and Cas can have a long, happy life together."

There was a tense silence before Sam's voice cut through. "Dean," he said softly. Dean looked up for a split-second to meet his eyes, and Sam was also clutching a piece of paper.

"I'm not really sure how to start this, but I guess I'll start by saying that you're the best big brother I could ever ask for. You've done everything for me and more, including risking your life. You sacrificed yourself to shelter me, and you have no idea how truly grateful I am." He paused. "I've said this before, but I'm hoping it will sink in this time- It's over. Neither of us are with Dad anymore. I'm almost eighteen. I need you to stop living in the past and I need you to move forward. And I say ' _I_ need' because maybe that's the only way you'll do it, but I can't stand to see you like this, Dean. I'm half-way across the country and every day I dread that I'm going to get a call from Cas that... that you're dead. I don't think I could handle that. You're the only one I have left." He paused again to take a shaky breath. "But enough about what I want. You need to do this because you have so much potential, Dean. You're smart and talented and funny and I know you're capable of so much more than this. This isn't living, this is dying. When you first left for California, I was so proud of you. I was _happy_ for you. Yeah, you were scared, but who wouldn't be? But you were happy and Cas was happy and I was so happy to see you two leave for a fresh start together. I hoped it was finally over, that you were leaving Lawrence behind and moving on with your life. Imagine my surprise six months later, when you showed up in Lawrence strung-out and homeless, babbling about leaving Cas because he would be better off."

Marie's eyes widened and she looked to the boys, but Cas was still staring at his lap and Dean had buried his face in his hands.

"I remember you saying you couldn't get help because the med changes and getting clean were just too much- you couldn't handle it. I want to remind you that you've handled so much worse, Dean, and that this is nothing compared to the reward. I know you're strong, because if you weren't, you wouldn't be sitting here right now. You would've been dead already. I want so much more for you than this. I want my brother back."

Sam cleared his throat as his eyes continued reading. "Cas, I don't know much about what's going on with you. I don't know if this started out as partying too hard, or if you've got some of your own issues to work through, but I want the best for you, too. Ever since we met you, you've been such a good friend, and I appreciate what you've done for Dean and I, but especially Dean, over the years, _so_ fucking much. I'm not sure where Dean, or I, would be without you. You've always held Dean together, and I... I think it's breaking you, now, too. Both of you need to focus on taking care of _yourselves_ now. I want you guys to get better, so you can get old and grump-" He glanced at Dean, "- _ier_... together. I want to have kids with Jess, and I... I want them to have their Uncles in their lives." His voice cracked a little at that, and he took a deep breath before looking up from the paper. "I just... I want you guys to be happy."

He sighed and looked to them for some kind of reaction, but Cas hadn't moved. Dean, still staring at the floor, had slid his fingers into his hair, gripping the short strands tightly. He wished he hadn't cut his hair again. He needed enough to yank. He needed some kind of sensation to take him away from this moment. Cujo, who had still been resting his head on his lap, again lifted a paw, pushing himself up and settling his chest and legs in Dean's lap.

After what seemed like forever, Rich cleared his throat. "We think you will be okay with outpatient, Cas, but if you want to go to rehab, that's fine, too. We're strongly recommending inpatient for you, Dean."

Dean looked up, letting his hands fall from his hair. He felt numb. His first instinct was to point out why this wouldn't work. "And who's going to pay for all this, huh? Shit isn't free," he grumbled.

"That's the last thing you need to be worrying about-" Rich said.

"I am," Marie piped up. "I will pay for everything." She paused. "I had Sam do some research, and he found a highly recommended rehabilitation facility specializing in psychiatric disorders right here in California."

Dean bit his lip so hard it hurt, looking away. He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve any of this. He didn't even want to know how much money that would cost- and how long he would have to stay. Or how disappointed everyone would be when he failed- again. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, unsure of what to say, before settling on, "I... I can't imagine anything other than this, honestly. I can't."

"Dean, you got clean once before-" Sam started.

"And that didn't fucking last," Dean snapped, turning his head to glare at him. "Why should I go through all of this, and waste Mrs. Novak's money, just so I can do the same shit over and over again?"

"You don't have to do it over and over again, Dean!" Sam said exasperatedly. "That's a choice you have to make when you get out. This program should give you the tools to stay clean."

Dean scoffed, leaning back and crossing his arms. "I..." He looked away, gritting his teeth in an attempt to stop himself from tearing up. "I can't."

"Yes, you can," Cas said softly from the seat next to him, placing his hand on Dean's thigh. "I know you can. We both can."

Dean turned his head to look at him. His gaze flicked to the marks on Cas' neck from their time in the driveway, and it just served as a bitter reminder of how good today had been- until this. "I can't be away from you again, Cas," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just can't."

Cas looked sympathetic, but he was determined not to break. "But do you really want to keep living like this? It's only for a little while." Dean didn't respond. "Well..." Cas swallowed. "I'm going. I have to. I'm not going to end up like my brother." He paused. "You can stay here but I don't know what will happen when I come back."

Dean uncrossed his arms. "What are you saying?"

"How do you expect me to stay clean if I come home and you're still using, Dean?"

Dean stared into his eyes for a moment. He hadn't really thought of that. He struggled for anything to say. "But... we're... we're together. Isn't that all that matters? You said it yourself! ...Don't you remember?"

Cas looked down at his hands in his lap. "Yes..."

Dean felt his chest tightening at the thought of losing Cas, and he immediately got defensive. "So is this not good enough for you, Cas? Is that what you're saying? Because I'm sorry, but if you can't take me at my worst-"

Cas snapped his head back up, staring straight into Dean's eyes. "Dean, it's not that," he said quickly. "Don't even say shit like that. You know I will always love you no matter what." He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. "But I want better for you, for us..." He re-opened them. "Because I love you."

Dean felt his fear twisting into anger as he realized Cas had said he was going. This was it- all eyes were on him, waiting for his decision. "It's not going to get better, don't you get it?" he said, raising his voice. "I'm broken, and you need to understand that there's no fixing me! It'll save you a lot of trouble."

"Well I'm not going to fucking live like this anymore!" Cas yelled suddenly.

"Live like what?" Dean pressed. "You're the same exact way now!" Dean fell quiet for a moment, staring into Cas' eyes, as the realization of what he just said hit him. "Oh god... did... did I make you this way? Is this my fault?" he said, his voice shaking.

"Whoa whoa whoa," Rich interjected. "Nobody made anybody any way."

"I can't do this," Dean said, suddenly jumping to his feet. Cujo jumped back to stand in front of Rich, who reached down and grabbed his collar to keep him in place. Dean turned and headed for the door, and Cas jumped up as well, reaching out and grabbing his wrist.

"Dean-" Dean ripped his arm from Cas' grasp, continuing for the door. "Dean, _please_ -"

"No, fuck this!" Dean yelled, spinning around. "This is fucking bullshit! You all think you can come here and tell me how to live my fucking life as if you know what the fuck I've been through?"

"I-" Sam started, but Dean cut him off.

"You don't fucking know either, Sam! You have no idea what the fuck he did after I sent you upstairs, when you were at school-" He cut himself off before he went into a tirade about the recent trauma that Sam couldn't possibly understand- and hopefully never would.

"Dean-" Cas started again. Dean ignored him, turning back around and heading for the door.

"Let him go, Cas," Rich said calmly.

" _What?_ Why?" Cas yelled frantically. "So he can go OD somewhere? Are you fucking crazy?" He raced past Dean to the door, putting his back against it and spreading his arms.

"Cas, move," Dean growled.

"No." Cas tried to sound firm, but his shaking voice betrayed him.

Dean's fists clenched at his sides, and he closed his eyes, turning his head away from Cas. "Move," he repeated.

"No!" Cas yelled again.

"Dean," Sam warned, standing up.

Dean could feel the panic and anger finally bubbling over- he needed to regain control. He needed to get the fuck out of there. He surged forward, ignoring Sam, and grabbed Cas by the front of his tee-shirt with both hands. He pushed him harder against the door, leaning into his face and making eye contact. "Let. Me. Go."

Cas just stared back, his heart pounding painfully in his chest. "P- please... just promise me you'll come back," he whispered, low enough that only Dean could hear him.

Dean's expression softened slightly, and he let his hands fall from Cas' shirt. He looked away again. "I will," he mumbled.

Cas gave a small nod but didn't move, so Dean shoved him out of the way before flinging the door open and stomping out into the yard. Sam rushed out the door after him, and Cas let himself slide down the wall to slump on the floor. He wrapped his arms around his knees and lowered his head into them. The room was tensely silent, until Rich spoke.

"Cas..." Rich said tentatively. "Please tell me he doesn't..."

"No," Cas said quickly, but it was muffled. He lifted his head from his arms and leaned it back against the wall, his eyes closed. "He's never put his hands on me."

Rich and Marie shared a worried look, before looking back at Cas. "He kind of just did," Rich said flatly.

Cas looked away. "Look, _one_ time he shoved me up against the wall like that. _Once._ And he was in a really bad place. So bad that I had to have him admitted."

"Um..." Rich blinked slowly and shook his head. "Okay." He sighed. "So, uh... you're going though?"

"Yes," Cas mumbled, closing his eyes again. "I will do outpatient."

"Oh, _dieu merci_ ," Marie choked out.

.

Sam ran out onto the front lawn, looking around frantically. He spotted Dean walking down the sidewalk the next house over. "Dean!" he called out, running after him.

"Fuck off, Sam," Dean yelled over his shoulder. Sam ran up behind him, reaching out and grabbing his shoulder. Dean spun around and shoved him. "I said fuck off!"

Sam stumbled back, but kept his balance. He stepped forward and clenched his jaw. "I am _not_ giving up on you, Dean."

"Whatever," Dean muttered, turning around and walking off again. He heard Sam's footsteps pick up again behind him.

"Dean, this isn't you." Dean didn't respond. "You realize you put your hands on Cas back there, right?"

"I'm gonna say this once," he said loudly, without turning around. "Don't follow me." The footsteps stopped, and he walked past two more houses before chancing a glance over his shoulder. Sam was standing under a streetlight, watching him walk away.

Dean put his head down and kept walking. As much as he didn't want to admit it, they were right. They were all right. He was spiraling out of control. He scoffed to himself at the thought. He'd never been in control in the first place, and to think for even a second that he had been, was nothing but denial.

_He forgave you the first time- or at least, he said he did. But why the fuck would he do that again? You don't deserve him. You're fucking garbage._

"I didn't fucking mean it," he mumbled.

_You think that's all this is about? You think abuse has to be physical?_

"Fuck..."

.

Cas slowly stood up, making his way back towards the couch and sinking down next to his mother, who wrapped him up in a hug. "I'm so sorry, mom," he whispered.

"I know, _mon ange_ ," she crooned, stroking the hair on the back of Cas' head.

"I should probably go," Rich mumbled. He looked at Marie. "Do you and Sam need a place to stay tonight?"

"No, thank you," she said. "We can stay at a hotel."

"You can stay here," Cas mumbled into her shoulder.

"I think we should give you and Dean some time alone, don't you think?" As much as watching Dean push her son up against a wall scared the hell out of her, she had to believe Cas, and she had to believe that after what Dean had been through at the hands of his father, he would never hurt Cas.

"I can convince him to go. I know I can."

She sighed. "I hope so."

They heard a deep sigh, and Rich and Marie looked towards the door to see Sam standing there, looking defeated. "I couldn't stop him," he said quietly.

Cas choked out a sob, and Marie hugged him tighter. "What if he overdoses again?" he sobbed into her shoulder. "We have to find him."

"He's probably heading towards Brit's," Rich said.

"That's even worse!" Cas cried out.

"Maybe if we go he'll come back," Rich said hesitantly.

"Probably," Sam mumbled.

Marie released Cas and pulled back, looking down at his face. "Do you think that's true, Castiel?"

Without looking up, Cas nodded.

"Okay." She stood up and placed her hand on Cas' head, before sliding it down to cup Cas' face in her hand. "Call me if you need anything, okay? If you can convince him, send me a message. He has to be there by one tomorrow." Cas nodded. "Will you be okay alone?"

Cas nodded again. He wanted to make a snarky comment about how he was used to being alone, but he knew it wouldn't be fair. He was just feeling hurt and angry and completely overwhelmed, and it wouldn't be right to take it out on his mom.

" _Je t'aime_ , Castiel," she said softly.

"I love you, too, mom."

.

Dean walked to the nearest liquor store and bought a bottle of Jack with the last of what was in his wallet. He cracked the cap as soon as he was out the door, gulping down the amber liquid as he made his way to Brit's. He was already buzzed when he finally approached her house. He pounded on the front door. "Brit, open the door!" he yelled.

Her roommate cracked the door open and rolled his eyes, but he moved back and let Dean in. He stumbled up the stairs and banged on her door. "Brit, it's me."

"Come in," she called. He pushed the door open and stumbled in. "Fuck," she mumbled, sitting up on the bed. "I was supposed to be at your house."

"You knew about this?" he rasped.

"Well, yeah," she mumbled, looking down. "Rich wanted me to go. I completely forgot." She paused, looking back up at him. "I'm guessin' it didn't go well."

He stared at her for a moment, unsure of what to say, before breaking down into tears. "I fucking shoved Cas," he yelled.

"Jeez, Dean," she said quietly.

"What the fuck is wrong with me?" he sobbed.

She pushed herself off the bed and walked over to him, placing her hand on his arm. "You just need help, Dean," she said softly.

"I can't do it," he choked out, avoiding her gaze.

She squeezed his arm. "Yes, you can."

"No!" Dean yelled, and Brit let her hand fall away. "I can't! I can't stand the thought of failing everybody _again._ "

"You can't think like that, Dean!" she yelled back. "That's the problem! You're setting yourself up for failure!"

"I'm not setting up shit!" he snapped. "It's just a fucking fact!" He took another swig from his bottle before looking to her face. "Please tell me you have some dope, Brit... _please."_

She looked uncomfortable. "Dean, I don't think I should-"

"Alright, you need to go." They both turned to see her roommate standing in the doorway, glaring at Dean with his arms crossed.

"Fuck you," Dean spat.

"It's okay, James," Brit said quickly.

"No, it's not. This is ridiculous." He moved towards Dean and grabbed his arm.

Dean ripped his arm away, taking a step back. "Don't fucking touch me!"

"Then get the fuck out or I'm calling the cops!" he shouted, pointing towards the door.

Dean tightened his grip on his bottle and glanced at Brit, who had her head down, staring at the floor. He looked back to James. "Fine." He pushed past him and left the room, stumbling down the stairs and flinging the front door open. As he reached the sidewalk, he heard Kansas playing from somewhere. It took him a moment to realize it was his cellphone. He retrieved it from his pocket and squinted at the screen. It was Cas. He pressed answer and brought it up to his ear.

"What?" he croaked.

There was silence on the other end for a moment, before a weak, "Come back."

"You're crazy. I'm not comin' back there 'til everyone's gone," he muttered.

"They are," Cas said. "Rich left and took my mom and Sam to a hotel."

Dean hesitated. "...You swear?"

"Yes, Dean. I'm not going to lie to you," Cas said quietly. "They left. It's just me here... and Cujo."

"Okay..." He swallowed. "I... I'm sorry."

"Do you need me to come get you?"

Dean tried not to think about the fact that for the first time ever, Cas didn't assure him that it was okay.

_Because it's not. What you did is not fucking okay and it's never going to be okay. You're just like John._

"Dean? Do you want me to come get you?" Cas repeated.

"Yes," he croaked. "I'm outside of Brit's."

"Stay there. I'll be there in five." He hung up.

Dean made his way towards the streetlight, leaning against it and sinking down onto the ground. He tilted his head back and took a long swig from the bottle, which was nearly half-empty now.

_Cas is one stupid motherfucker if he forgives you, you know that? You're well on your way to becoming your father. You think Mary would have stayed if John had beat her mercilessly from the start? Maybe she thought she could fix him, too. And look what it got her. Two kids with an abusive drunk and dead before her youngest was even out of diapers._

"Shut the fuck up!" Dean screamed, throwing the bottle. It hit the sidewalk, shattering into hundreds of pieces. He curled in on himself, folding his arms over his knees and lowering his head into his arms. He didn't want to live like this anymore, he knew that, but he felt so powerless to change it.

_If Cas had one ounce of self-respect, he would kick your sorry ass to the curb._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> dieu merci - thank god  
> mon ange - my angel  
> Je t'aime - I love you


	80. Chapter 80

True to his word, Cas was there in five minutes. Dean heard the roar of the Impala as it rounded the corner, and he staggered to his feet, leaning heavily against the streetlight. Once Cas pulled up, he pushed himself forward, stumbling over to the car and yanking the door open. He dropped down into the seat, slamming the door behind him.

Cas immediately pressed his foot to the gas, driving back towards their house without a word.

Dean finally broke the silence. "I'm so sorry, Cas," he mumbled, staring out the window at the houses they passed. He sounded so empty and hollow, and Cas hated it.

"I know you are." There was a tense pause. "But you can't keep running away when things become too much."

Dean didn't respond. He knew Cas was right, so what was there to even say? Silence settled between them, although Cas had a feeling things weren't exactly silent for Dean, if the way Dean kept lightly shaking his head was an indication of anything. The silence lasted the entire ride, all the way until they returned home and entered their bedroom. Cujo was immediately on him, but Dean ignored him as he prepared a shot. He felt the mattress dip as Cas climbed onto his side of the bed.

"Are we going to talk about this?" he asked hesitantly.

"I guess we have to," Dean sighed. "I didn't stick around long enough to hear, but... I assume your mom's gonna cut us off if we don't go?"

Cas hesitated before responding. "You mean if _you_ don't go?"

Dean withdrew the needle, setting it on the nightstand without turning around. "What?"

"I'm going... remember?"

Dean clenched his jaw and swallowed hard. "Right." He twisted around to lie back on the bed, and Cas joined him, lying on his side. He placed his hand on Dean's chest, watching his face as he stared up at the ceiling.

"Can I ask you something?" he asked gently.

Dean closed his eyes, murmuring approval as the wave washed over him.

"Why are you fighting this so hard? If you could fight this hard to get clean-"

"Because," Dean interrupted. "It's alotta work... an' wasted effort... just to fail 'n' disappoint everyone again... including myself."

"Why are you so sure you'll fail?" Cas pressed.

"'Cause I always do," he said simply.

Cas let out a small sigh. "Dean-"

"C'mon, Cas, think 'bout it. I'm just gonna come back here 'n' do the same exact thing."

"So we'll move," Cas said, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. "We'll move out into the middle of nowhere, where we don't know anybody. We'll isolate ourselves until you're ready."

Dean huffed a bit of air through his nose. "Tha's not fair to you."

"I don't care, Dean. I don't need anybody but you. Besides, I miss the rural life." He closed his eyes, slowly flexing his fingers, dragging them up and down Dean's chest in small, gentle movements. "The city's a little too busy for me."

"You're jus' sayin' that." Dean smiled weakly. "I saw you in that club."

Cas smiled too, but it fell quickly. "Do you think I would've enjoyed that scene without the coke?"

Dean's shoulders twitched a bit in a halfhearted shrug.

"Can I tell you something?" Cas asked softly.

"Mhmm."

"Remember when I said I would never enable you?" He paused. "I, uh... I know that I am. And I feel like... I feel like I'm doing it because I don't want to lose you again. I'm afraid if I push you, you'll leave again." He inhaled a shaky breath as tears welled up in his eyes. He curled the fingers on Dean's chest in towards his palm to make a fist, and Dean brought his hand up to place it on Cas'. "But I can't do it anymore. If..." He stopped, trying to find the words without bursting into tears. "If you die... I need to know that I did everything I could."

"Fuck, Cas," Dean groaned softly. "Don't say that."

"But it's true, Dean," Cas forced out, the tears finally spilling over. "We can only live like this for so long. It's just a fact. Our bodies will only stand the abuse for so long."

"I know," Dean said quietly. He turned his head to face Cas and cracked his eyes open. "But you havta understand... sometimes..." His eyes slipped closed again. " _Most_ times... I don't care." He swallowed audibly and re-opened his eyes. "I'm sorry." He wasn't sure exactly why he was apologizing for that. He couldn't help it. It was just the way he felt, and he'd felt that way for as long as he could remember. He couldn't remember a time when he actually _wanted_ to live.

Cas shifted closer, pressing his face into Dean's shoulder as Dean closed his eyes again. "I understand, Dean. But there's more to life than this. You have to give recovery a chance before you make that decision." Dean exhaled a long sigh as Cas pulled his head back a bit so he could speak clearly. "I know you're not ready-"

"No," Dean interrupted. "It's not that." Without opening his eyes, he turned his head to face the ceiling again. "I'm ready. It's now or never. I'm jus'... I'm fuckin' scared."

Cas slid his fingers out from beneath Dean's to place his hand on top and give Dean's a gentle squeeze. "Tell me why. Maybe I can reassure you."

Dean was quiet for a moment as he struggled to itemize exactly why he was so scared while both drunk and high. "I'm scared of disappointin' everyone..." he said finally. "That I'll give it my all... an' it still won't be enough."

"We won't be disappointed. We will be so proud of how far you've come, and we will just encourage you to keep trying."

The corner of Dean's mouth tilted up a bit in the ghost of a smile, but it lasted less than a second. "I'm scared of facin' everythin' I've been ignoring."

"You've already done that before. In Lawrence," Cas pointed out, dragging his thumb over Dean's hand.

"An' it sucked," Dean huffed out with a dry, humorless laugh. "An'... there's more now."

"I know. But if you just keep at it, it will be so worth it," Cas assured him.

Dean was on a roll now. "The meds... They're... unpredictable."

"At first," Cas corrected. "Don't you remember how you felt when you weren't hallucinating?"

"Yes," Dean said wistfully. He took a deep breath. "But... side 'fects."

"Are they really that bad compared to this?"

"I... I guess not." He paused for a few moments, clearly trying to sift through his concerns. "...Will they let you come see me?"

"I don't know," Cas said honestly. "Probably. Maybe not at first." Dean was quiet. "But I'll be right here waiting when you finish."

"How long do I havta go?"

"I don't know," Cas said again. He knew Dean should complete at least ninety days, but he thought that would upset Dean to hear. "I think the minimum is thirty days." Dean groaned, and Cas was thankful he hadn't said ninety. "Dean... if you won't do this for you... will you at least do it for me? ... _Please_."

Dean turned to look at him again, catching his eyes, and he stared into them before asking his next question. "Are you gonna leave me if I don' go?"

Cas frowned, searching Dean's face for the right words to say. "...Is that what you need to hear?"

Dean closed his eyes again. "Maybe," he murmured, and Cas could tell even he wasn't sure.

"Dean," Cas sighed. "I don't ever want to leave you. ...But I will say, that right now... our relationship is not healthy."

Dean let out a stuttered sigh before worrying his lip between his teeth. He knew Cas was right. "If I agree to this... you gotta tell 'em they can't let me sign out early. They gotta keep me... 'til they think I'm okay to go."

"Of course, Dean," Cas said quickly, squeezing his hand again. He suddenly realized he was holding his breath as it dawned on him that Dean was _actually_ considering this.

Dean pushed out a harsh breath, and Cas watched the muscles in his jaw twitching as he gritted his teeth. A full minute ticked by, agonizingly slowly, before Dean sighed, "I'll go."

Cas squeeze his hand again, tightly this time. "Thank god," he breathed, burying his face in Dean's shoulder again. "You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear that."

"Tha's all I wanna do, Cas," Dean mumbled. "Make you happy."

"I know, Dean," Cas crooned, lifting his head to look at Dean's face. His hand left Dean's to settle on his neck, so Cas could stroke his thumb across the barely-there stubble on Dean's jaw. "But I want you to be happy, too."

"Makin' you happy makes me happy," Dean said softly, tilting his head away from Cas, towards his palm.

Cas smiled. "I love you, Dean. More than I think you'll ever understand."

"I love you, too, Cas." He paused, his eyebrows knitting together. "How I treated you today... was wrong."

"Yes," Cas said simply, still caressing Dean's face with his thumb.

"Why d'you keep forgivin' me?"

"Because I know that's not you."

Dean opened his eyes and turned his head to stare at Cas. "Sometimes I get so scared I'm gonna hurt you, Cas. I don't wanna hurt you. I- I could never forgive myself."

Cas dropped his eyes away from Dean's face. "I'm not going to lie, Dean... The two times you pushed me like that... I was scared. Really scared." He looked up to meet his eyes again. "But I know you wouldn't really hurt me."

"But wha' if I did?" Dean pressed, his heart sinking further in his chest. He didn't want to scare Cas. He wanted to protect him from all the evil in the world- not _be_ the evil. "You can't keep forgivin' me."

"That's for me to decide," Cas said softly.

Dean lowered his eyes. "You're too good for me," he mumbled.

Cas smiled sadly. "Stop," he said gently. He pulled his hand away and reached down to slide his phone out of his pocket. "I'm going to text my mom and tell her you're going... okay?"

Dean nodded.

They talked for a few more hours, until neither of them could fight sleep anymore, and they fell into a few hours of sleep in each others arms.

Cas awoke next to an empty space, and for a brief moment he began to panic, until he realized what had woken him up. Dean was behind him, sitting on Cas' side of the bed- since Cas had settled more towards Dean's side- playing his guitar.

_"I'm worth five bucks or less, the future's down my neck_   
_My restless soul takes stride, far across this great divide_   
_I won't heed it's cry, won't follow it's lifeline_   
_It's time to sink or swim, sail on or anchor in_

_I'm funny like an aimless fool, I'm as lucky as a funeral_

_I've got cliches to write, I get high as a kite_   
_My dreams force me to wake, find meaning to this day_   
_Find a way into the night, grant me with a reason why_   
_I'm sick with the TV on, it drones in the lonely dawn_

_I'm funny like a nameless fool, I'm not looking at a glass half-full_

_I'm tired of the same old pace, I hate this same old day_   
_How easily I fill this space, handed down from the same old place_   
_I fail with the old street lights, I bark with the dogs at night_   
_When the moon is full and bright, it smiles in the alley's eyes_

_Pin me up with the stars tonight, I've been looking for a place to shine_   
_One day it'll be my time, I'm not waiting for the bells to chime_

_I'll brake like a traffic jam, I'll sing like a slaughtered lamb_   
_Upside-down like an hourglass, I've been waiting for the sands to pass_   
_But the storm keeps rolling in, sharp teeth on a howling wind_   
_I'm like a penny in a fountain, thrown, from a warm and distant palm unknown_

_I'm funny like an aimless fool, I'm as lucky as a funeral_

_Now the world seems so clear, as it disappears_   
_In the blink of a frozen eye, in the course of an hour gone by_   
_One day my star will rise, a new path will open wide_   
_Like the mouth of a tiger, I will swallow all my pride_

_I'm funny like an aimless fool, I'm not looking at a glass half-full_   
_I'm tired of the same old pace, how easily I fill this space..."_

He strummed the last few chords and let his head fall forward with a deep sigh.

"Morning," Cas said, his voice thick with sleep.

Dean twisted around and smiled warmly. "Mornin'."

"I didn't think you knew that song well enough to play it," Cas commented, a sleepy smile tugging at his lips.

Dean shrugged, looking down at the bed. "I've heard you play it enough times. I liked the lyrics, so..." He looked back up. "It kind of stuck with me." He paused. "Were you listening the whole time?"

Cas nodded. "I'm glad I didn't miss any of it."

Dean smiled sheepishly. "I promise I'll play more. ...When I get back."

Cas' mouth turned upward into a small smile, and his hand slid across the bed to take Dean's. "I'm glad you haven't changed your mind."

"I gotta admit... my first thought this morning was to bolt." He looked into Cas' eyes and huffed a sigh. "But I can't live like this anymore." He moved his gaze downward, to the blanket. "I just hope I can do it," he mumbled.

"I know you can," Cas said reassuringly.

"I'm sorry you have to deal with your stuff alone," Dean said quietly, lifting his gaze to Cas' face. "You're been there for me through everything. And now, the one time it counts... I can't be there for you."

"It's okay, Dean. You getting help is the best thing you could ever do for me." He smiled. "And I won't be alone. Just because I'm not living at the facility doesn't mean I won't have a counselor and therapist and other recovering addicts to talk to. ...And I have Cujo."

Dean smiled weakly. "You're right. Plus... you were always much stronger than me, anyway."

"I don't know about that, Dean," Cas said carefully. "I don't know if I could have handled what you've been through."

Dean looked uncomfortable. "I didn't have a choice," he shrugged.

"That's true."

"I want to show you something before your mom and Sam come back."

Cas raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Dean stood up and made his way around to his side of the bed, sitting back down and leaning forward. He pulled open the bottom drawer of his nightstand and pulled out his handgun. "You ever fired a gun, Cas?" he asked, staring down at the metal in his hands.

Behind him, Cas sat up. "No. ...Why?"

Dean turned his head only slightly, peering at Cas out of the corner of his eye. "I should have told you this a long time ago..." He looked back down into his lap again. "You know that guy..." He trailed off and swallowed. "...That I stayed with? Well, he'd gone through my wallet. Knew our address. Threatened to come here if I didn't stay with him."

Cas drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. "...That explains why you've been so paranoid," he said quietly.

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "If you're gonna be here alone, I need to know that you'll be safe."

Cas nodded. "Okay."

Dean went on to show him how it worked, how to load and unload it, and any other basics he needed to know. He showed Cas how to hold it, how to aim it, and had him do everything but fire it. He knew that was important, but they had limited time, and he couldn't exactly have Cas fire it in the house or yard.

"Aim is important, but as long as you hit them somewhere, they should stop coming for you unless they've got a death wish. And you've got a couple rounds, so you shouldn't have a problem. It'll at least give you time to stop someone long enough for you to escape or call 911."

Cas nodded and handed the gun back to Dean, who carefully placed it in the bottom drawer of Cas' nightstand before sitting down next to him on the bed. Cas turned to him, placing a hand on his thigh and leaning in to kiss him. When they broke apart, Cas let his head drop to rest his forehead on Dean's shoulder.

Dean reached up and took his chin in his hand, tilting his head up to kiss him again, and then they were falling back onto the bed. The clothes they'd fallen asleep in were hastily removed and then they were naked, warm skin to warm skin as Dean gently ground his hips down into him. Cas was already fully hard, but it took Dean a little longer to catch up. He took them both in his hand, stroking gently as he lavished Cas' neck with kisses.

"Cas..." he said softly, "Can we have sex?"

"Of course, Dean. You don't have to ask."

Dean lifted his head to look into his eyes. "I just wanna make sure I never do anything you don't want."

Cas smiled. "I appreciate that, Dean, I really do. But I always want you. If I ever don't want to do something, I'll tell you."

"Okay," Dean murmured, returning his lips to Cas' neck. Cas reached a hand out to grab the lube off his nightstand, thrusting it into Dean's hand. Dean leaned back for a moment to drizzle a generous amount onto his fingers, rubbing them together to warm it up before reaching down between Cas' legs. They spread for him quickly, and Dean ran his fingers up and down between Cas before pressing his thumb to the muscle. Cas pushed back a bit against him, so he pressed it in, gently pulling and tugging Cas open.

Cas sighed beneath him, closing his eyes. Dean leaned forward again, locking their lips together as he slid a second finger in. He continued like this for a few minutes, Cas squirming and sighing beneath him, before he removed his fingers and took his dick in his hand. "Ready?"

Cas nodded and Dean pressed up against him, slowly pushing the head in. Cas moaned softly as he slid the rest of the way in, Dean exhaling a heavy sigh. " _Oh_... Cas..."

Cas clutched his shoulders as Dean began thrusting slowly. He lowered his head, pressing his forehead to Cas' and staring into his eyes. "Cas..." he breathed. "Mark me," he murmured.

"What?"

"Please. I want a reminder that I'm yours... while I'm gone," Dean whispered. He knew the marks wouldn't last long, but it was better than nothing.

Cas nodded and tilted his head to press his lips to Dean's neck, taking the skin between his teeth before letting go and sucking. Dean groaned, thrusting his hips just a little bit harder. Cas gripped his shoulders tighter as he worked, dragging his lips across Dean's neck to suck a few different marks onto his skin.

Dean buried his face in Cas' neck, breathing heavily as he approached climax. He usually didn't come this quickly, especially in missionary, and especially not while he was using, but this time was different. The last four months they'd been fucking like rabbits, but it was drugged up fucking. This was making love. It wasn't the same- it was so much better. He felt so close to Cas, and he didn't want this moment to end. He didn't want to part; he didn't want to be away from Cas for who knows how long.

"I love you... so much..."

"I... love you..." Cas breathed. He tilted his head back, letting out a low moan, and then he was coming, his dick throbbing between their stomachs as he spilled between them. He clenched around Dean, who gritted his teeth and came with a grunt, his muscles locking up as he emptied into Cas. He choked down a breath full of air, slowly thrusting a few more times before lowering his full weight onto Cas. They laid still for a moment to catch their breath, sticky and panting, and then Dean rolled off to lie on his back. Cas shifted onto his side, placing a hand on Dean's chest, over his heart.

.

"I think I've got everything," Dean said, staring down at the bag he was kneeling in front of. He thought it was ironic that he was using the same bag he'd used last time, to be strung out and homeless, to go to rehab. "Oh, except... I'd like, um... A picture of us."

He looked up at Cas, who was standing in front of him and smiling down at him. "Of course." He walked over to the closet, kneeling down and pulling out a shoe box. He opened it up, flipping through a stack of photographs before seemingly finding one he liked- or thought Dean would like. He pushed the box back into the closet and stood up, coming back to stand in front of Dean again.

Dean reached up and took the photo from Cas' outstretched hand. It was from when they took Sam camping in Kansas for his twelfth birthday. In the center of the photo, Sam was passed out in his sleeping bag, mouth agape. On his left cheek, which was facing the camera, was a penis, crudely drawn with permanent marker. On the right side of the photo was Dean, all of his teeth visible as his mouth stretched into a wide grin and he gave the camera a thumbs up. On the left, Cas' lips were pulled tight in a small smirk. He clearly thought Dean was being immature- and in Dean's defense, they were sixteen- but it was obvious he still thought it was funny.

Dean looked up at Cas with a smile. "It's perfect." He stood up, grabbing his bag, and they went out in the living room to settle down on the couch together. Cas tucked his legs up underneath himself and leaned into Dean, lying his head on his chest. Dean lowered his chin onto the top of Cas' head, stroking his hand down his back in a slow, repetitive motion. The minutes ticked by as they sat in silence.

"Cas... I don't wanna go," Dean said eventually.

Cas tensed a bit, lifting his head. "...What do you mean?" he asked worriedly, scared Dean had changed his mind.

Dean sighed. "I'm going, don't worry. I just meant... I don't want to go away from you. I don't wanna leave."

Cas laid his head back down on Dean's chest. "I know. But it's only temporary... and you know I'll be waiting when you come back."

"I know," Dean said quietly. He lowered his head into Cas' hair, breathing in deeply. He wanted to remember Cas' scent for as long as possible. A knock on the door interrupted the moment, and Dean's stomach dropped to the floor.

It was time.

Cas got up to open the door, letting Marie, Sam, and Rich in. Marie immediately pulled Cas into a hug, lifting her gaze to offer an encouraging smile to Dean, who stood awkwardly by the couch.

Sam made his way over to Dean, wrapping him up in a tight hug and nearly squeezing the life out of him. "I'm so proud of you, Dean."

Dean let out a nervous laugh. "I didn't do anything yet."

"It doesn't matter," Sam said. "You agreed to go. And I know that was hard."

Dean gave him a pat on the back and pulled away. "Thanks, Sammy." His gaze moved to Rich, who was standing awkwardly by the front door. Dean walked over to him, meeting his eyes and extending his hand. Rich looked shocked for a split second before taking it and shaking firmly. "Thank you, Rich. For everything. For being there, for doing this... For taking care of Cas while I was gone."

Rich looked shocked all over again, but he schooled his expression and gave Dean a curt nod as their hands broke apart. "Of course, man. I know you and I don't always see eye to eye, but... you guys are my friends."

Dean nodded back and looked to Cas. "So... we going now?"

"Yes," Cas said with a nod. "We are. Rich is taking my mom back to the airport, and Sam is going to stay here to keep me company for a little while."

Dean nodded again. "Okay." Suddenly Marie was in front of him, taking him in her arms and hugging him tightly.

"Good luck, Dean. I know you can do this." She pulled away, gripping his upper arms and turning her head to look at Cas. "You both can."

Dean smiled weakly. "Thank you, Mrs. Novak. For everything."

She let her hands fall away, turning her body to face Cas. "You call me any time, Castiel. _Je vais gagner du temps, je promets_."

Cas smiled weakly. "Thank you, mom."

She turned to Rich and nodded, and he held his hand up in a short wave before turning and opening the door. He and Marie left, and Cas turned to Sam. "I'll be back in a few hours. Make yourself comfortable. We don't have a lot of groceries, but I have my intake appointment at three-thirty and then we can go to the store."

Sam nodded. "Thanks." His eyes flicked to Dean, and they held their gazes steady for a moment.

Dean cleared his throat and swallowed thickly. "I'll see ya, Sammy."

Sam smiled at him. "See you soon, Dean."

Cas leashed up Cujo and left Sam with Dean's house key. Dean grabbed his bag and they got into the car, Cujo sitting in the front between them, settling his front half on Dean's lap.

It was overcast and rainy, and Dean felt like it was better that way. If it were bright and sunny, it would've made it ten times harder to go and allow himself to be locked up in some facility for god knows how long. The radio was on, low, and Dean stared out the window as they drove down the freeway. His hand rested on Cujo's back, and he felt Cas reach out and wrap his fingers around his own. He looked over and Cas was offering him an encouraging smile.

Dean smiled back before turning back to the window, but it was halfhearted. He was scared. They were already half-way there, and he knew from this point on, everything was going to change. He couldn't keep running away from his problems; he was going to have to face everything head-on.

As if Cas could read his mind, he piped up from across the car. "It'll be okay, Dean."

Dean turned his head away from the window to face the road, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. "I don't know if I can do this."

"Just try," Cas said gently. "That's all I'm asking."

Dean nodded and they fell silent again. When they finally pulled up to the facility, Dean's eyes widened. Even through the rain, it was beautiful. Perfectly manicured lawns and shrubbery surrounded a tennis court, a pool, and a few other amenities.

"Cas... this place is fancy," Dean commented, awestruck.

Cas shrugged. "My mom picked it."

Dean wasn't sure what to say, so he only nodded. Cas pulled up to the front and stopped the car. He slipped his cell phone out of his pocket and let out a small, nervous sigh. "Right on time."

Dean closed his eyes and exhaled a long, slow breath. Cas watched his face patiently, until Dean re-opened his eyes. "Okay." He looked down at Cujo, who was looking up at him with wide eyes. "Goodbye, buddy. You be good for dad and Uncle Sammy." They exited the car, leaving Cujo inside, and Dean walked around the car to the sidewalk. Cas was waiting for him by the drivers side door, wearing a tight smile. Dean threw his arms around him, burying his face in his shoulder and inhaling deeply. "I'm gonna miss you so much, Cas. I will call you as soon as they let me."

Cas hugged him back tightly, his eyes beginning to sting. "I'm going to miss you, too, Dean. So much. But this time we separate, it's going to be different. We're doing this to get better, and when we're done..." He trailed off and sniffled. "We will be together again."

Dean balled his fist up into the back of Cas' tee shirt and nodded into his shoulder, sniffling himself. He pulled back and dragged the sleeve of his jacket across his eyes. "I know." Cas brought his hands up to cup Dean's face, leaning forward to kiss him. It was soft and slow, one Dean was determined to remember every second of to get him through however long they had to be apart.

When they pulled apart, Dean's eyes flicked to the door, and then he looked down at their feet. "I guess I should go in." He looked up to see Cas nodding. "I love you, Cas."

Cas smiled. "I love you, Dean. Be good."

Dean's heart stuttered in his chest. "I- I will." Cas gave him a quick nod and reached his hand out for the door handle. Dean nodded back and turned away, taking a deep breath and walking off towards the front doors. Cas watched him, hand on the door handle, until he disappeared through the doors and Cas could no longer see him. He lowered himself into the car, gave one last glance at the building, then put the car in drive to head home and begin his own treatment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> "Je vais gagner du temps, je promets."  
> "I will make time, I promise."
> 
> Songs used:  
> [Sundowner - Mouth of a Tiger (2010)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x6AfO8dR-oQ)


	81. Chapter 81

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: mention of self-harm

Cas had just tossed his keys onto the counter and made his way to the back door when his cell phone rang. He pushed the door open to let Cujo out, looking down at the unknown number flashing on the screen. Wondering who it could be, he tapped answer and brought the phone up to his ear. "...Hello?"

Dean's voice came over the line, low and warm. "Heya, Cas."

"Dean!" Cas exclaimed, his face breaking into a wide grin. "I'm so happy to finally hear from you. How is it going?"

Dean hesitated before answering. "Uh... let's just say the worst is over... But it's only been four weeks," he added quickly. "So I'm not expecting any miracles... y'know?"

"Of course."

Dean cleared his throat. "So, um, what about you?"

"Really good, actually. Haven't used since the day I dropped you off. It sucks that I can't smoke either, though. They don't really see a difference," he said, leaning against the door frame and watching Cujo sniff around the yard.

"Yeah, I can understand that."

"But I think I've single-handedly raised the value of coffee stock."

Dean laughed at that. "Yeah, they're pretty big on coffee here, too." He paused and lowered his voice. "This place is way too fancy though, Cas. It's weird. When I went into the psych ward the food sucked, the rooms sucked. Here it's, like... awesome. I feel out of place."

"You get what you pay for," Cas pointed out. "Last time you were in a state-run facility, paid for by government insurance, so... I'm not surprised. Plus inpatient rehab is different than a psychiatric hospital anyway."

"Yeah." Dean paused. "Oh, I've only got five minutes, by the way. I've already used two."

"Oh," Cas said quickly. "Okay then. Um... did they say if I could come see you at some point?"

"Um... I don't know what it was that I said, but..." He sighed heavily. "They said something about us being codependent. I dunno. They said I should wait."

"Okay," Cas said sadly.

"But I miss you so much."

"I miss you, too. While I've got you on the phone, I wanted to ask your opinion. About us moving. I was thinking West Virginia."

"Whatever you want, Cas. I will follow."

Cas smiled. "We can drive to Kansas in a day to visit Sam. And I'm going to enroll in Animal Behavioral College."

"That sounds great."

"So... what's it like there? How is treatment?"

"Uh... good, I guess. They put me on Suboxone so there wasn't really any withdrawal... Not physical, at least. And I'm on a cocktail of psych meds which kind of sucks- Shit. I gotta go. I don't know when they'll let me call again... But I love you."

"I love you, too, Dean. Be good."

"I will. Bye."

* * *

Cas was just pulling into the lot at the beach to meet Rich and Max when he got his second call from Dean. He'd saved the number, so this time, he knew it was him. He quickly pressed answer and brought the phone up to his ear. "Dean?"

"Hey, Cas!"

Cas couldn't stop the huge grin that spread across his face. Dean already sounded so much better. "Hey! How's it going?"

"Really good. I think they're gonna let me leave next month. I miss you so much."

"I miss you, too. ...We've never been apart for that long," Cas pointed out. It had been two months so far, about the same amount of time they were apart when Dean took off. "But it's gone by so much faster when I know that you're safe, and I know you'll be back."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "I, um... I've been writing you letters."

"I haven't gotten anything," Cas said, confused.

Dean laughed a little. "Yeah, I don't send them. I guess I'm basically just keeping a journal, but it feels weird writing to nobody. So I've been writing to you. Plus... there's a lot you need to know- or at least, I want you to- that I'm probably not gonna wanna dredge up again when I leave here. I think I've done enough talking for a lifetime."

Cas smiled into the phone. "I look forward to reading them."

"Yeah," Dean chuckled. "Just don't laugh at me. There's a lot of shit in there I could probably never say to your face."

"Why?" Cas asked.

"I dunno..." Dean sounded uncomfortable. "Too emotional, I guess."

"Oh, okay. Well you know I would never laugh at you." He paused. "So... can you have them call me or something when they know when they'll release you? So I can plan the move?"

"Yeah. I'll talk to my counselor."

"Okay. Do you want to say hi to Cujo? We just arrived at the beach for a play date with Max."

"Sure," Dean chuckled.

Cas pulled the phone from his ear and pressed the speaker button. "You're on speaker," he said.

"Hey, Cujo," Dean said softly. "Do you miss me?"

"Who is that?" Cas asked, looking at Cujo. "Is that Daddy?" Cujo tilted his head, staring down at the phone.

"Are you being a good boy Cujo? I'll be home soon."

Cujo whined a little, and Cas pressed the speaker button again and brought the phone back up to his ear. "He misses you," Cas said, reaching across the seat to rub Cujo's head. "He moped for nearly a week when you left."

"Yeah. I miss him too. And I didn't realize how much he did for me until I didn't have him."

"Have they given you any anxiety medication?"

"Yeah. Buspar or something? It's a mild tranquilizer. Non-addictive. They barely give me any though because too much can interact with the Suboxone."

"...Does it work?"

"Eh. Sort of. Less general anxiety... but doesn't do much for the panic attacks."

Cas nodded, but then realized Dean couldn't see it through the phone. "So, uh... how's everything else going?"

"Alright. I'm on a few different meds. Still on the Suboxone. They said I'll probably be on that for a long time. But, uh, what about you?"

"Well... I was having trouble staying awake and I was feeling pretty shitty. They called my doctor who gave me a mood stabilizer and a stimulant called Modafinil. But it's hopefully temporary."

"Does it help?"

"Yeah, it does."

Cas could hear Dean's smile through the phone. "Good." There was a pause, and then a sigh. "I gotta go. But I'm gonna give your number to my counselor and maybe she can give you a better idea on when I'm gonna be outta here."

"Okay. It was nice talking to you, Dean."

"You, too. Love you."

Cas grinned. "I love you, too."

"Bye, Cas."

"Goodbye, Dean."

* * *

It was only another three weeks before Cas received another call. He'd just gotten out of the shower and sat down on the couch with a sandwich. "Hello, Dean," he said warmly as he answered the phone.

"Hey Cas! Guess what?"

Cas smiled at the excitement in Dean's voice. "What?"

"You can come pick my sorry ass up next week!"

Cas laughed. He knew that already, the counselor had called and told him, but he wanted to share in Dean's excitement. "I'm so happy, Dean. I've missed you so much."

"Me too, Cas. Me too. I can't wait. The next week is gonna go by slower than the last twelve weeks combined."

"I know," Cas said softly.

"I, uh..." Dean trailed off. "Gained some weight back."

"That's good, Dean. We both needed to."

"No, I know," Dean said quickly. "I was barely one-sixty when I got here, if you can believe that. I'm back at one-eighty-five now."

Cas huffed a laugh, looking down at the sandwich on his plate. "Yeah, well, I passed my normal weight ten pounds ago."

"Really?"

"Yes. I fucked my metabolism up pretty badly, so..." He trailed off and noticed Cujo staring at him from his bed. "Oh, Cujo says hi."

"Has he been good?"

"Of course."

"What's going on with the move?"

Cas glanced around the living room. "I'm almost finished packing. I called a moving company so the Impala isn't packed to the brim, and we can keep our furniture." He paused. "We'll probably leave the day after I pick you up, if that's okay. Should take us about four days to get there."

"Can we stop in Lawrence to see Sam?"

"Of course."

"Awesome." He paused briefly. "Fuck. The five minutes goes by faster every time. I'll see you soon."

"Okay. I love you."

"Love you, too, Cas. Bye."

* * *

Cas awoke at eight to his alarm blaring. He reached out to shut it off, closing his eyes again for a moment until he remembered what day it was. October twenty-fifth. Today was the day Dean was finally being released.

He leapt out of bed and fed Cujo breakfast. When Cujo finished, he let him outside and smoked a cigarette while he waited for him to do his business. As soon as he came back in and Cas closed the door behind him, he took a quick shower and got dressed. As much as he wanted to bring Cujo, he didn't want a repeat of the last time they were reunited, so he figured it could wait until he brought Dean back home.

The car ride seemed to take even longer than it had when he dropped Dean off, but before he knew it, it was five to ten and he was walking into the lobby. He went up to the front desk, and the receptionist looked up from her computer and smiled warmly. "Hi. Can I help you?"

"Uh, yeah," Cas started, trying to calm himself, "I'm here to pick up a patient. Dean Winchester?"

"Okay. Just give me one sec." She looked back down at her computer and began typing. After a few seconds, she said, "Okay, he should be out momentarily. He's just finishing up his discharge paperwork. You can have a seat."

"Okay. Thank you." He turned and walked over towards a few chairs that were lined up against the wall, plopping himself down into one of them. He picked up a magazine from the coffee table, absentmindedly flicking through it, but it couldn't hold his attention for more than a few minutes. He ended up tossing it back onto the table and jiggling his leg anxiously. He tried to look around to calm his nerves, but there wasn't much to look at aside from a few posters and signs hanging on the white walls, with either quotes about recovery, or rules for patients and visitors. He couldn't keep his eyes off of the door that he assumed led to the rest of the facility.

It was nearly ten minutes before the door opened and a boot-clad foot was stepping out. Cas quickly stood up, barely managing to keep his excitement from bubbling over. Dean had his head turned, finishing up a conversation with somebody behind the door, and when he turned back around, his face lit up. "Cas!" He quickly moved forward, letting the door swing shut behind him, to meet Cas half-way across the lobby.

They threw their arms around each other, embracing for a solid two minutes before pulling apart. They couldn't keep their eyes off each others faces. "You look so good, Dean," Cas commented. It was true. Dean's skin actually had color again, and his eyes were back to that deep emerald green Cas had missed so much, as opposed to the dull gray-green they had been.

Dean smiled sheepishly. "So do you, Cas." Cas still had bags under his eyes, but he always had. They weren't nearly as bad now as they had been the last time he'd seen him. His eyes were still a piercing blue, and he'd gotten his hair cut back to its normal length. Dean wasn't sure if he'd dyed it back, or if his roots had just grown out that long, but there wasn't a single trace of blue anymore.

Cas broke his gaze to glance at the receptionist, then back to Dean. "Do you need to sign out with her or anything? Or can we go?"

"Nope, I did all that already with my counselor in the back. We're good to go."

Cas reached out and took his hand, smiling happily. "Well let's go then." Dean nodded and they turned towards the door, walking across the lobby and out the front doors. They walked down the sidewalk, hand in hand, through the parking lot, and to the car.

"I wanna drive," Dean said quickly.

"Of course," Cas agreed, letting go of Dean's hand and fishing the keys out of his pocket. He held them out to Dean, who quickly unlocked the doors and threw his duffel bag into the backseat. Cas could hear the rattle of prescription bottles as the bag hit the leather. Dean closed the door again and got into the front seat as Cas went around to get into the passenger seat.

Immediately Dean slid over and took his face in his hands, kissing him fervently. Cas melted into it, closing his eyes. Dean pulled back slightly, and Cas could feel his breath on his lips. "I missed you so much," he murmured. "Longest three months of my life."

Cas smiled. "I missed you, too. I don't ever want to be apart again."

"Me neither." He pulled away and jammed the keys into the ignition, and the Impala roared to life. "Fuck," he said softly, running his hand along the steering wheel. "I missed driving." He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lit two, holding one out to Cas.

Cas smiled and took the cigarette, watching the side of Dean's face as he pulled the shifter into reverse and craned his neck to check behind him before backing out of the spot. "I know." His smile faded when he noticed a fresh, raised scar across Dean's left wrist. "Umm... Dean?"

"What?" he responded, stopping at the stop sign at the edge of the parking lot and turning his head away from Cas to check for traffic.

"What... what is that?" he asked hesitantly. Dean turned to look at him and noticed his gaze affixed to his wrist, and his face fell.

"Oh. Uh... it's all in the letters, Cas. But I will say, don't worry. It was 'cause of the meds. Let's just say one of the ones they tried definitely wasn't right for me."

Cas nodded solemnly, still staring at the wound as Dean pulled out into traffic. "So, um... when do I get to read the letters?"

Dean shrugged. "I dunno. Whenever you want, I guess. Maybe tonight after I go to bed."

"Okay." They drove in silence for a while, aside from Cas telling Dean how to get back onto the freeway towards home, their hands clasped between them on the seat. About half-way home, Cas spoke up. "So what was it like? You don't have to tell me about any of the bad stuff."

Dean pursed his lips, wondering where to begin. "Well..." he started, keeping his gaze on the road. "It was weird at first. Definitely weird to have such a rigid schedule. But I got used to it pretty quick. They kept us really busy. We had to pick two outdoor activities to do every day. I did swimming. And, uh, soccer. It was good to have an outlet." He paused. "But otherwise, it was just a lot of groups. I had to see a psych every day at first, then once a week, which was weird, since most people see them less than once a month? But I guess it was good... helped them figure out which meds I needed."

Cas watched him as he spoke, and Dean glanced at him. Seeing his smile, he smiled nervously back. "What?"

"Nothing... you just seem happy. How do you feel?"

Cas' stomach did a little flip as he got one of the lop-sided grins from Dean that he loved so much. "Good. I feel good." He looked back towards the road. "What about you? What was outpatient like?"

"Much less interactive, I'll say that much. I had an hour group four nights a week at first, and I saw a counselor once a month. After a month they cut me down to three groups a week, and the third month I only had two. But, um... the first few weeks I wasn't doing too well. I didn't relapse or anything, but I felt like shit. I was doing nothing but sleep and I wasn't getting anything done. I felt like I was just existing, which sucked. They said depression is a normal symptom of cocaine withdrawal, so they contacted my regular doctor who wrote me a basic mood stabilizer and a stimulant, which helped a bit. I do feel better now. Although my back pain is back, obviously."

"Did you not notice it when you were using?" Dean asked.

"Not really."

"Do they let you take your medication?"

"Of course," Cas said with a nod. "It's prescribed. I had to submit to random urine testing anyway, so I'm sure they were monitoring my levels and making sure I wasn't taking more than prescribed."

"So... are you done?"

Cas nodded again. "Yes. I told them we were moving, and it's been ninety days since my intake exam, so they discharged me yesterday."

Dean smiled over at him. "Congratulations."

Cas squeezed his hand. "Same to you."

"I didn't really have a choice, though, Cas. You were still on the outside and managed not to use. That's admirable."

Cas shrugged. "I knew if I didn't get my shit together, it would jeopardize your recovery. And I didn't want to do that. That was probably my biggest motivating factor."

"Thank you, Cas. I'm sorry I was an asshole and made you turn to that shit anyway," Dean said quietly.

"It's not your fault," Cas said quickly. "And it's not Rich's. It was nobody's fault but my own. Even when Rich first gave me the shit, he tried to keep me under control. He wouldn't give me Craig's number. I ended up going behind his back and getting it from Brit. Then he pointed out that I was getting out of control and took my bag for three days. But when I was able to go the three days without using, he gave it back. I guess he thought that showed I could control myself. But I was still early on in my use, and I was determined to prove a point. I didn't tell him that those three days were pretty fucking miserable."

Dean nodded slowly. "Can I ask you something without you getting mad?"

"Of course."

Dean chewed his lip. "Are we still gonna smoke?"

Cas laughed. "Of course. Why did you think that would make me mad?"

Dean shrugged. "I dunno," he mumbled. "I don't want you to think it means I'm not taking my recovery seriously."

"You know I don't view weed like other drugs."

"No, I know... But most of the counselors and stuff do."

"I know," Cas sighed. "It was the same thing where I went." He paused. "I don't have a problem with you smoking, but I need you to be open and honest with me. If you ever feel like using again, or drinking, or anything, I need you to tell me. And don't use weed as a replacement for that."

Dean nodded. "Okay. ...I'll be honest with you right now, then... I still think about using sometimes. But... I just try to remind myself of what that would mean. What would happen. That all my hard work would be for nothing. I gave it my all in there, I really did. I don't want to throw that all away."

Cas squeezed his hand again. "Thank you for telling me. I'm very proud of you."

Dean's face flushed, the pink causing his freckles to stand out in the sun pouring through the windshield. "Thank you." He swallowed and sighed. "I can't wait to see Cujo."

"I'm sure the feeling's mutual. I didn't bring him only because I didn't want him screaming again."

"Yeah," Dean agreed, chuckling. "That was crazy." He paused. "I feel kind of bad sometimes."

Cas turned to squint at him. "What? Why?"

Dean shrugged. "He was supposed to be your dog."

"I know," Cas agreed. "But I don't mind. I was thinking that maybe after we move we can get a second dog."

"I'd like that." He paused, squinting into the sun. "So, um... I guess we should say goodbye to Rich and Brit today. Let Cujo see Max one last time."

"Oh, Brit actually went inpatient."

Dean raised an eyebrow at him. "Really? When?"

"Yeah. A month after you did. Rich convinced her."

Dean was quiet for a moment. "He's a good friend," he said eventually. "So many addicts at the facility said all their non-addict friends and family just completely wrote them off." He sighed. "Anyway, I'm glad. It sucks I won't get to say goodbye, but I'm happy for her. I hope it sticks this time. I, personally, don't plan on ever having to do this again. I _never_ want to do this again."

Cas nodded, pulling his cell phone from his pocket. "I'm gonna call him." He scrolled down his contacts list until he got to Rich's number, then pressed call and held the phone up to his ear. It rang a few times before Rich picked up.

"Hey Cas. What's up?"

"Hey. I just picked up Dean. We're on our way home. I thought maybe you'd like to come by and bring Max."

"Can we go to the beach?" Dean asked.

"Dean said he wants to go to the beach."

"Yeah man, sounds great. How is he?"

"He's good. Listen, is there any way you can do me a favor?"

"Sure, what's up?"

"Can you pick us up an ounce and I'll pay you back when you come over? I don't really want to see Craig."

"I don't blame you. I don't think going there would be a good idea, either. So, yeah, I'll pick it up for you. What time do you want me to come over?"

"How's noon?"

"Perfect. I'll see you later."

"Okay. Thanks again."

"No problem. See ya."

"Bye." Cas pulled the phone away from his ear and tapped the screen to end the call. "So he'll be over at noon. Hopefully Cujo's calmed down enough by then to enjoy his play date." Cas put his phone back in his pocket. "We have to stop and get cigarettes."

"Oh, I actually still have two packs left."

"Really?" Cas had bought him two cartons on the way to drop him off, but he didn't think Dean would have any left after three months.

"Yeah. They only let us smoke four cigarettes a day." He rolled his eyes.

Cas smiled and let out a small laugh. "Well, maybe that's a good thing. We were smoking way too many cigarettes."

"Did you cut down too?"

Cas frowned. "No." He paused. "Um, since we're moving tomorrow we don't have much food and most of the kitchen stuff is packed. Do you want to stop for some lunch?"

"Yeah. We ate breakfast at seven every day. I could eat again."

"I can't believe they managed to get you up that early," Cas chuckled. "What do you want to eat?"

"The food there was great and all, but I could really go for some greasy fast food."

"Stop at McDonald's or something."

They stopped and got some food and made it home by eleven-thirty. As expected, Cujo went ballistic. He flew around the living room, bouncing off the couch and off of Dean and howling at the top of his lungs. Dean ended up getting down on the floor with him to wrestle. After twenty minutes, Cujo got tired, so the three of them settled down on the couch to wait for Rich and Max.

"Oh!" Cas said suddenly, standing up and disappearing into the bedroom. He returned with Dean's phone, holding it out to him. "Here."

"Thanks," Dean said, taking it from him. He immediately dialed Sam, who answered after three rings.

"Dean?!"

"Sammy!" Dean said enthusiastically, grinning from ear to ear. "How's it going?"

"Good. What about you? You sound so much better."

"I _feel_ better. I feel great, actually. Listen, we're about to take Cujo to the beach but I just wanted to let you know we're moving again-"

"I know. Cas told me."

"Yeah. We're gonna stop by to see you in a few days. On our way to West Virginia."

"Awesome. I can't wait to see you guys. Jess says hi."

"She keepin' you in line over there?"

Dean could practically hear his eye roll over the phone. "Yes, Dean."

"Good. You better be treatin' her right."

"Of course I am," Sam scoffed. "You're one to talk."

"Hey," Dean scolded, flicking his eyes over to Cas, who was sprawled out on the other end of the couch, smoking a cigarette and scrolling on his phone. He sighed deeply. "No, I know. You're right. Look, I gotta go, but I'll text you later, okay?"

"Alright. It was really good to hear from you, Dean. You can tell me all about your experiences when you get here."

Dean rolled his eyes. Of course Sam would want to talk about all that crap. "Okay. I'll see ya later, Sammy."

"Bye, Dean."

Dean hung up and set his phone down on the coffee table, pushing himself up to crawl over to Cas. "Hey."

Cas looked up from his phone, a smile slowly spreading across his face. "Hey." He leaned forward to set his phone down on the coffee table and his cigarette in the ashtray as Dean climbed on top of him. Dean lowered his head to softly press his lips to Cas'.

"I missed you so goddamn much," he murmured.

"I know, Dean," Cas said, bringing his hands up to place them on Dean's waist. "I missed you too." They made out lazily for a few minutes, until Cas pushed his tongue into Dean's mouth, causing Dean to pull back in surprise.

"You-"

"Yeah," Cas said, opening his mouth and sticking his tongue out slightly. A shiny silver ball sat dead center. He closed his mouth again. "It's healing obviously impedes having any fun, so... I figured while you were gone would be a good time to get it done."

"Fuck, Cas," Dean breathed. "That's really hot." He paused, his face flushing pink. "I know I never said anything, but I like your lip ring, too."

Cas smiled sheepishly. "Thank you, Dean." Dean had just leaned down for another kiss when there was a knock at the door.

"Dammit," he grumbled. He glanced at the cable box, which read 12:03. "He sure is punctual for a stoner."

Cas snickered. "If it was impossible for stoners to be punctual, all of California and Colorado would fall apart." Dean backed off of him and Cas got up to answer the door. Max rushed in to greet Cujo and they immediately began growling and wrestling as Cas closed the door behind Rich.

"Hey!" Rich said, spotting Dean, who had just stood up off the couch.

"Hey," Dean replied, extending his hand. "How you been?"

Rich shrugged and took Dean's hand, giving it a friendly shake. "Same shit, different day. What about you? You look great, man."

"Thanks," Dean said with a laugh. "I do feel better." He paused. "I can't thank you enough for staging that intervention, man. Seriously."

Rich shrugged again. "What are friends for?"

"I won't lie, I was fucking pissed at first," he said with a grin. "But I owe you."

"You don't owe me shit," Rich said with a wave of his hand. "Oh, except for this." He pulled the ounce out of his pocket, grinning at the both of them.

"I cannot _wait_ to smoke again," Cas groaned, tilting his head back. "What do you guys want to smoke out of?"

"The bong," Dean and Rich said in unison.

Cas went into the bedroom and re-emerged with the bong. The three of them sat down on the couch, Cas in the middle as he packed the bowl head. They passed it back and forth for a while, and after fifteen minutes, Dean had to decline. After another ten Cas tapped out as well.

"Holy shit, I am high as fuck," Dean breathed, staring off into space.

Rich laughed. "That'll happen when you don't smoke for three months." He took another hit, clearing the bong, before setting it on the table and leaning back. "You guys ready to go to the beach?" He was already wearing his swim shorts.

Cas nodded. "Yes. We have to change." He stood up and walked off towards the bedroom.

Dean nodded as well. "Be right back." He stood up and followed Cas in, closing the door behind him. Cas got changed quickly, but Dean had to dig through the back of the closet for his old pair of swim trunks. Finally he found them, and he pulled them on and tied the string, then turned around to show Cas. "They fit again."

Cas closed the space between them, pushing Dean back onto the bed and climbing on top of him. He leaned down and roughly pressed their lips together, forcing his tongue into Dean's mouth and grinding his hips down.

Dean placed his hands on Cas' chest, pushing him up. "Christ, Cas, you're gonna give me a boner. Not easy to hide in swim trunks." Cas just stared down at him lovingly, eyes hooded. Dean stared back up at him for a moment, his mouth slowly turning into a frown. "Cas... you know I'm probably gonna get fat again, right?"

Cas closed his eyes and dropped his head. "I don't care, Dean," he mumbled, before looking up again and meeting his eyes. "I really don't."

Dean stared back at him for a second before lowering his gaze. Cas had the smallest swell of flesh poking over his waistband. Dean looked back up at him and nodded. "Let's go."

The beach was beautiful. It was a little chilly, but the water was still warm from the summer, and the dogs had a blast. Rich rolled a joint on the beach and they got high again, watching the dogs play.

"Max is gonna miss him," Rich sighed, leaning back in the sand on the heels of his palms.

"Yeah," Cas agreed.

"I'm gonna miss you guys, too."

Dean grinned and flicked his wrist. "Aww."

"Shut up," Rich snorted. "Seriously though. Brit's gone and Jen's been so far up her new boyfriend's ass it's ridiculous." He paused, looking out at the water. "My dad left me the house. I think I'm gonna sell it and hit the road with Max."

"Yeah?" Dean said.

Rich nodded. "Yep. I wanna see the rest of the country. Visit my sister in New York. I've only seen her once in the last five years, and that was for the funeral."

"Damn," Dean mumbled. "I can't imagine going that long without seeing my brother."

"Well I'm sure you guys are way closer than we were," Rich said carefully. "But yeah. I miss her."

Dean nodded, following his gaze out towards the water, where the dogs were splashing around.

"If you find yourself in West Virginia, come visit us," Cas said.

"Oh, I will," Rich agreed, turning his head to grin at him. "You're not getting rid of me that easy."

They hung out for a few more hours before Rich had to head home. He needed to feed Max, shower, and get some sleep, as he had work in the morning. Back at the house, they smoked one more joint before Rich hugged them both goodbye and loaded Max up into the truck.

"Good luck, you two," Rich said out the window once he'd closed the door to the truck. "Stay straight."

"We will," Cas said softly. "Thanks for everything."

Rich just smiled down at him and put the truck in reverse. "Don't mention it." They waved him off and as his truck disappeared around the corner, Dean wrapped his arms around Cas' waist, lowering his head onto his shoulder.

"Ready to finish packing?" Cas asked, tilting his head to rest it on Dean's. "There isn't much left."

Dean nodded, then lifted his head. "Yep."


	82. Chapter 82

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of self-harm

It was nine o'clock by the time the very last box was taped and labeled. They ordered a pizza and smoked and watched TV until ten, when Dean announced he was tired.

"Is this when they made you go to bed?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Kind of programmed for that now." Not to mention the weed had made him drowsy, and he needed to take his evening medication. "Besides, don't we have to hit the road early?"

Cas shrugged. "Doesn't really matter. But the movers will be here at eight." Dean nodded again, and they were quiet for a moment, until Cas asked, "Can I read those letters now?"

Dean frowned. "Don't you want to get some sleep?"

Cas shrugged again. "I did plenty of sleeping while you were gone. I think I'll be okay."

Dean nodded and stood up, walking off into the bedroom. He pulled a spiral notebook out of his bag and went back into the living room, standing in front of Cas and holding it out to him, looking away. "Here."

Cas stared up at him from where he was sitting on the couch. "I don't have to read them if you don't want me to, Dean," he said softly.

"No, you need to. It's fine."

Cas nodded and took the notebook from his outstretched hand. Once it left Dean's grip, he seemed to relax a bit. He leaned forward and gave Cas a quick kiss. "Night."

"Goodnight, Dean." Dean walked off into the bathroom to brush his teeth and Cas lifted his legs up onto the couch, tucking them beneath himself. He lit a cigarette and opened the notebook to the first page. Dean's handwriting was tight, all capitals, and there were a few spelling errors.

_July 25_   
_They said I should to start a journal. Said it would help? With what I have no idea. I feel kind of stupid writing to nobody. Whats the point? Anyway if I'm here I might as well do what they say I guess. Today was my first day. Kind of overwhelming but I didn't expect anything diffrent. I have a roommate. His names Greg. He said hes a crackhead. The room is way nicer then the one in the psych ward, and the food is awesome, but I don't really have much of an appetite. My counselor is nice. Her name's Melissa. She said she was an addict for 10 years, and she's been clean for 20. I guess that should make me think that if she can do it, I can too, but all it makes me think is there's no way I can go 20 years without using anything. I can't even imagine living another 20 years. How do people do it? I have no fucking clue but I guess that's what I'm here for. To find out how. She said to take it "one day at a time." I'm not optimistic tho. Tomorrow I see the psych. Not looking forward to that. They put me on suboxone. They said I shouldn't have physical withdrawl symptoms. Thats great but I feel guilty because I would rather be using._

_July 26_   
_My psych is pretty cool. He doesn't look at me with pity. I appreciate that. I spent 2 hours with him and he changed my PTSD diagnosis to C-PTSD, which is different from regular PTSD I guess. Doesn't stem from a single incident, instead its from being exposed to long-term trauma. Awesome. Kept the BPD, schizoaffective disorder, and GAD. I'm a fuckin basket case. It sucks. He wrote me three different meds to start with. Still can't stop thinking about using. This is going to be a long 3 months._

_July 29_   
_What the fuck am I doing here? I still can't stop thinking about using. I'm just wasting everybody's time. Whenever any of the counselors talk to me I feel guilty because all I'm doing is counting down the days til I can leave and shoot up. It's disgusting. I'm disgusted with myself. I told my counselor and she said it's normal, but it doesn't feel normal. Maybe I have no idea what normal feels like tho._

_I miss Cas._

_August 1_   
_Cas,_   
_I'm going to start writing these to you because it just doesn't feel right writing to nobody. It feels like a waste. I miss you so much. I have no idea how I survived without you for 2 months. I hope you're doing OK. I feel like this is all my fault. If I could've been the man you deserved none of this would be happening. But instead I fucked everything up and I can never forgive myself for that. I don't know what the fuck you see in me, I really don't, because I'm fucking garbage._

_I don't like these meds. I don't feel right. I don't know how to describe it but I feel disconnected._

_August 3_   
_Cas,_   
_Yesterday I screwed up. I know this is CA but I've been trying to hard to keep my sex life quiet anyway. Its not that I'm ashamed of you Cas cause I'm not. I guess I'm just ashamed of myself. I know there's nothing wrong with it but so many people including my dad think there is and I just can't help feeling that way. Anyway idk how anyone found out, maybe they can just tell, but some guy made a queer comment in the common room and I flipped out on him. Then he said some stupid generic insult about my mother and I lost my shit. I know he has no way of knowing what happened but it doesn't matter. I tackled him to the ground and punched him 4 times before the orderlies got there and pulled me off. I fought back and they had to fucking tranquilize me. Today they told me if I do it again I can't stay here. I don't know what to do. I can't blow this but I don't feel like myself anymore._

_August 11_   
_Cas,_   
_I fucked up. I fucked up so bad. I don't even know how it happened. I just know I was watching myself like a movie, I couldn't stop myself, and then Greg is pounding on the bathroom door because I'm taking too long. He kicked the door in and I'd slit my fucking wrist. I smashed a disposable razor to get to the blade inside. I feel so fucking stupid. I don't want to die. They sewed me up and put me on suicide watch for the last week. I swore I had no idea how it happened. They adjusted my meds and took me off one and put me on another. I feel better now and they're insisting it was the medication. They said it sounds like I disassociated. But I'm embarassed. I feel like everybody knows. This place says they specialize in psychiatric stuff but I don't know if anyone else here is this fucked up._

_August 15_  
Cas,  
I don't know why but they said it would be better if we didn't see each other while I'm here. I don't know how I'm going to make it another 2 1/2 months or more without seeing you. But they said they'll let me call once a month, so I'm holding on to that. They said it sounds like we're co-dependant. Maybe because for the first two weeks I asked every day when they would let you come visit. I'm sorry.

_August 16_   
_Cas,_   
_I fucked up again. I let slip what happened to me while I was gone. They put me in another group. "Survivors of Sexual Trauma" I'm the only guy in there and it's so obvious none of the girls in there trust me. One girl started crying when I walked in. And I have to talk about it. All of it. All the groups are like that, they won't let me just listen, but this is so much harder. It's still so fresh. They said I have to call it what it is. Rape. They said avoiding using the word is giving it too much power. I feel so stupid crying in front of a bunch of girls and I'm pretty sure they all think I'm crazy. I can't fucking do this._

_August 25_   
_Cas,_   
_I got to talk to you today because I completed 30 days. Fuck, it was the happiest I've been since I got here. I can't wait to come home. I swear I'm going to do this right. I'm not going to blow this opportunity. I'm not going to put us through this again. You deserve so much better than what I've done. I will never understand why you picked me. You could have anybody in the world and you always pick me. I'm going to do everything I can to be deserving of that. **I swear.**_

_Sept 1_   
_Cas,_   
_This is so hard. But I promised myself I would try as hard as I could. Today we had to talk about how our childhood "shaped us into who we are". I didn't even know where to begin. I had a flashback and it fucking sucked. It was embarassing and exhausting. I wish I had Cujo here with me._

_Sept 7_   
_Cas,_   
_Today was a good fucking day. Because I haven't heard the voice all day. Praise Jesus! That's a joke by the way. Some of the groups talk about religion and it's all I can do to not roll my eyes. But I feel bad because it seems to help other people. Whenever they talk about the 12 steps or religion I just stay quiet. Whatever works I guess. Who am I to judge them?_

_Sept 12_   
_Cas,_   
_Today we had to talk about guilt. This is something I never told you because I didn't even know until I went back to Lawrence in January. But I need you to know. I had gone back to the house to see if any of my stuff was still in my old room. I didn't have any photos of you and it was cold so I was hoping to find more clothes. I broke in and my room was untouched. I guess my dad had gotten himself a girlfriend because next thing I know there's a gun pointed at me. Then my dad woke up and came in and flipped out on me. I asked him why he hated me so much and he told me. For once in his life he told me the fuckin truth. He said I started the fire. He said it was my fault. I was 4 and trying to use the stove and it was my fault. When I left it all came back to me. I guess I repressed the entire night, which they keep telling me here is common. To repress stuff. I was the one that pulled Sammy out. I didn't even know if my dad was home and my mom was on her way home from work. When she got there she ran in after my dad because he was supposed to be there. He wasn't and she died for no reason. I told Sammy and he said it wasn't my fault. Dad shouldnt have left me alone because I was only 4. I dont know. But I still feel guilty. How could I not? If I had just given Sammy cereal my mom would still be here and Dad wouldn't hate my guts._

Cas lowered the notebook onto his lap, blinking slowly. This was heavy stuff. He knew inpatient would be hard on Dean, but he had no idea _how_ hard. More than anything, he was thankful Dean's attempt had been unsuccessful and that he had lived and completed his program. He realized his entire cigarette had turned to ash, so he leaned forward to snuff it out in the ashtray. He stood up and went into the bedroom, where Dean was already asleep in the dark, his back to the door and his shoulder rising and falling as he breathed. He sat down on his side of the bed and clicked on the lamp on his nightstand. Dean must've felt the mattress move as Cas sat down, because he shifted a bit, before rolling over onto his back.

Cas watched his chest rise and fall, his mouth open slightly as he breathed. He reached over and brushed a bit of hair off of his forehead, smiling to himself. He loved Dean so much. He pulled his hand away and leaned back against the headboard to finish reading the rest of the entries.

_Sept 20_   
_Cas,_   
_Today in the sexual trauma group I realized almost all of the girls here blame themselves. So I guess I'm not alone in that. One girl was so drunk she couldn't stand up- she blames herself. Another girl thought she wanted to have sex but after she went home with the guy she changed her mind. She said it was her fault for leading him on. The counselor said exactly what you said. That it doesn't matter what happened, it doesn't give anybody the right to do what they did to us. I think most of the girls trust me now, since I've had to talk and stuff. They don't look at me the way they did when I first started._

_Sept 24_   
_Cas,_   
_Today I met with Melissa for my 60 day eval. She said I'm doing really good and if I keep it up they'll release me in another 30 days. I'm glad to hear that but its also really scary. I don't know if I'm ready. I still think about using. Not as much but I'm afraid it'll be worse on the outside and I won't be able to resist. But they said I can call you again tomorrow so I'm holding on to that._

_Sept 25_   
_Cas,_   
_It was so good to hear your fucking voice. I'm glad we're gonna move. I don't think I liked California. The neighbors were too close and everything was too close and I kind of miss snow. I miss you and Cujo a lot. I wish they gave me more than 5 minutes but they say phone calls can be stressors. I'm not sure how they expect us to deal with stress on the outside if they won't chance us being stressed from too many phone calls, but idk. I gave Melissa your number and she said she'll be in touch._

_Oct 1_   
_Cas,_   
_Today we had to talk about being "a product of our environment". I said I'd been stealing my dad's liquor for as long as I can remember. I guess I turned to dope when it just wasn't enough anymore. But from that conversation it turned into how we are adults now and have to take responsibility for our own actions. It made me think of what Sammy said. How we aren't living with dad anymore and I have to stop living in the past. He was right. It's just hard. Especially when I was having nightmares every night and flashbacks all the time. It still felt like he was in control. Which honestly hurt more because I knew he wasn't. I felt like I would never be able to get away from him and what he did. But with the meds I've been sleeping better. Maybe I still have nightmares, I don't know, but I don't remember them and they don't wake me up. I actually feel kind of rested in the morning. The only way I could ever stop the flashbacks was by using or getting drunk. I'm hoping once I'm out of here and I don't have to talk about this stuff every day they will stop._

_Oct 9_   
_Cas,_   
_Today wasn't that great. It was okay. We talked about forgiving those who have wronged us. I don't think I can ever forgive my dad though. But a part of me feels sorry for him. I know how scary schizophrenia is and I know how much worse it is when you're using... alcohol in his case. At least I think that's all he did was drink. Idk. Sometimes I wonder what he would be like if he wasn't a mentally ill alcoholic. Would he still be abusive? I guess I'll never know. But I don't know if I can ever forgive him. He obviously hasn't forgiven me for accidentally starting a fire when I was a damn kid. So fuck him, right? I guess I can't fault him though when I can't even forgive myself. But how can I forgive him for tearing me down physically and mentally- breaking my body and making me hate myself? He's my dad, he was supposed to love me unconditionally and support me. Instead he treated me like an abomination. I try to remember what you told me years ago, that his issues are his own and just because he projects them onto me doesn't make them mine. But fuck, it's so hard. He's my only parent and I just wish he didn't hate me. Sometimes I wonder what his parents and his childhood were like._

_Oct 18_   
_Cas,_   
_They let me call you again today. It was almost torture to hear your voice and know I have to wait another week to see you. But I can't wait. I can't wait to see you and Cujo and Sammy. Today we discussed outpatient treatment after release. I don't know what to do about that because then I can't even smoke. Which is whatever, if I have to do it I have to do it, but I also don't know how I feel about it anyway. I don't want to be one of those addicts who makes my whole life about recovery. Then my life is still revolving around drugs, yknow? The thought of going to NA makes me cringe. I just want to go back to the way things were the first time I stopped using and you got me on meds. I'll take the side effects over being a drug addict any day._

_Oct 24_   
_Cas,_   
_Holy shit. It's almost here. Tomorrow you're coming to pick me up. I packed up all my shit and everybody in my groups was wishing me well but it feels weird. Part of me almost wants to beg to stay because I don't trust myself. I don't feel like I'm ready. But I want to see you. I want to come home. I bet if I told them that's the only reason I wanna leave, they'd make me stay. Maybe it's normal to have doubts but I'm scared to ask. I just keep repeating to myself "one day at a time". That's what I have to tell myself. I tried to picture leaving here and using again and it just made me sick. So maybe I am ready. Idk. Even if I wanted to use again, they said the Suboxone blocks the opioid receptors or something, so I wouldn't even get the same rush. I guess that's why they gave me that instead of methadone. All I know is I'm ready to move on with my life. Our life. I never want to be away from you again. You're the only thing that keeps me going. I still don't understand why you chose me and I probably never will, but fuck I'm so, so glad you did. I love you Cas._

Cas closed the notebook and set it on the night stand. He looked over at Dean again, just staring at him, drinking in his features in the soft light from the lamp. He smiled to himself as he reached out for the light. "I love you, too, Dean," he said softly. He clicked off the light and pulled the covers out from underneath him, getting underneath and wrapping his arm around Dean. He pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, and Dean let out a little sigh in his sleep as he leaned into Cas.

.

Cas awoke to Dean nibbling on his neck. His mouth cracked into a sleepy smile as he instinctively tilted his head and lifted his shoulder, hiding his neck from Dean. "What time is it?" he murmured.

Dean pulled away briefly to say, "Six," before burying his face in Cas' neck again. "You smell good," he said against his skin.

Cas huffed a laugh. "Thank you."

"We should fool around and then go out for breakfast."

"That sounds like an excellent plan. The movers will be here at eight, though, so-"

"So we should hurry," Dean said, continuing to kiss his neck.

Cas nodded, rolling over to face Dean. "How did you sleep?"

Dean looked momentarily disappointed he could no longer reach the side of Cas' neck, but then he smiled. "Great. Way better than I did in rehab." He stared into Cas' eyes for a moment before frowning slightly. "So you read the letters?"

Cas nodded. "But you said you didn't want to talk about them." Dean lowered his gaze and shrugged the shoulder he wasn't laying on. Cas studied his face before saying, softly, "I had no idea how much guilt you carried."

Dean shrugged his shoulder again. "I'm trying to let it go. But it's hard."

Cas stared at him a moment longer before exhaling a sharp breath through his nose. He tossed the blanket off of them and pushed himself up, swinging his leg over Dean and settling back on his haunches as Dean shifted onto his back beneath him. Cas reached out and touched the pads of his index and middle finger to Dean's forehead and closed his eyes. "You are now absolved of all guilt." He re-opened his eyes to see Dean smirking up at him.

"What the hell was that?" he asked, grinning.

Cas pulled his hand away, letting it fall to the side, and shrugged sheepishly. "I don't know."

Dean laughed a little, bringing his hands up to settle them on Cas' hips. "Unfortunately it doesn't work that way, Cas, but I'm trying. I'll get there." He lowered his eyes to Cas' crotch, where his morning wood was softening beneath his boxers. He brought one hand forward to grab it, giving it a gentle squeeze, causing Cas to close his eyes and sigh contentedly.

Dean let go to slip the fingers of both hands into the waistband, pulling them down and tucking the elastic underneath his dick. He took Cas in his hand, stroking gently until Cas was fully hard again. "Scoot up," he said softly. Cas obliged, shimmying forward on his knees, only stopping when Dean's left hand on his hip stopped gently pushing him.

Cas carefully lowered his weight onto Dean's chest. "Can you breathe?" he asked worriedly.

"Yes," Dean said with a smile. He angled Cas' cock downward and leaned forward, taking the head into his mouth and suckling lightly. Cas closed his eyes and groaned, dropping his head down and reaching out to grab the headboard. Dean took him in a bit further, pressing his tongue up against the underside of the shaft, sucking gently.

" _Oh, fuck_..." Cas sighed. Three months. Three long, lonely months, and it felt _so good_ to have Dean's mouth on him again. He felt his hips slowly moving forward, wanting more, but he did all he could to stop himself. He wouldn't take more than Dean wanted to give him.

Dean pulled off, looking up at Cas and continuing to stroke him with his hand. "It's okay, Cas, go ahead."

Cas opened his eyes to stare down at him. "...What?" he asked, not as if he didn't know what he meant, but as if he hadn't heard him.

"You can move your hips."

Cas chewed his bottom lip for a moment as he got lost in Dean's touch. He almost forgot to speak. "I... I don't think you understand what I want to do."

Dean stared up at him innocently. "You wanna fuck my face, right?"

Cas pushed out a sharp breath. "Yes."

"So go ahead."

"Are you sure?"

Dean simply nodded and took Cas in his mouth again. Cas moved forward a bit more, until he was kneeling above Dean, before slowly thrusting into Dean's mouth. Dean let his hand fall away, settling it on Cas' thigh as he rolled his hips again. Dean relaxed his mouth as Cas picked up his pace, snapping his hips forward again and again. Dean slowly slid his hands down from Cas' waist to beneath the curve of his ass, tightly gripping the flesh there.

"Jesus fucking christ," Cas gasped, gripping the headboard until his knuckles turned white as he came down Dean's throat. He let out a shaky breath, his hands falling to his sides as he inched back a bit.

Dean grinned up at him, sticking his tongue out to lick some spit off his bottom lip. "Let's go get breakfast."

"What about you?" Cas asked, pulling the front of his boxers back up.

"I'm okay. Maybe later on the road you can return the favor."

Cas grinned back down at him. "As long as you can keep the car on the road."

Dean rolled his eyes and feigned offense. "Of course I can."

They got up and got dressed, fed Cujo and let him out, and got him dressed in his gear. They walked into town and ate their last meal at the diner, making it home by seven-forty five. The movers came and went by nine, and they were left standing in an empty living room. Cujo paced back and forth, only pausing to stare at them briefly, before pacing again and sniffing the floor in various areas where furniture used to be.

"We're leaving, Cujo!" Dean said excitedly, a grin plastered on his face.

"I can't wait to see his reaction to snow," Cas said, smiling as well.

"Me neither." They spent the next few seconds in silence, until Dean sighed heavily. "Ready?"

Cas nodded. "Come on, Cujo!" he called. Cujo hurried back towards them, standing at their feet and staring up at them expectantly.

"I'm kinda gonna miss the place. It was our first place together," Dean said wistfully.

Cas nodded, taking Dean's hand in his own. "Me too. But change is good."

"I know," Dean agreed. "You've shown me that many times."

They got into the Impala with Cujo, and as Dean started her up, he looked down at the odometer. It read 234,795 miles. He tried to think back to the last time he changed the oil. He was pretty sure it was before he left California. It had been ten months since then, and Cas had driven to Kansas to pick him up, and back to California, in addition to whatever additional driving they'd done. She was definitely overdue for an oil change.

"Did you get the oil changed recently by any chance?" he asked.

Cas nodded. "Yeah, actually. Last month."

As much as Dean didn't want to think about some random mechanic fondling Baby's insides, he was glad. "Awesome. Thank you."

Cas smiled. "You're welcome. I know you probably didn't want someone else working on her, but I didn't even know the last time it had been changed. Probably before I picked you up in Kansas."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "She definitely needed it." He paused. "She's probably going to need some major work soon. She's gettin' up there in mileage."

"Don't worry, Dean. She's not going anywhere. We will keep her running."

Dean smiled over at him. "Thank you Cas."

"You're welcome." He leaned forward and gave Dean a quick kiss. "Ready?"

Dean nodded, looking forward again and putting the car in reverse. "Let's do this."


	83. Chapter 83

"Do you want an open relationship?"

Dean nearly choked on his coffee. "What?!" He stared across the table at Cas for a moment, but his expression was blank. "Why are you asking me this?"

"Because I noticed you staring at the waitress," Cas said simply.

Dean set down his mug and lowered his head, embarrassed at being caught. He peered up at Cas. "No, Cas, I'm good." He paused. "Why, do you?"

"No. I'm more than happy with just you for the rest of my life. But I'm not bisexual."

Dean looked away and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I'm content with just looking." He brought his eyes back to Cas again. "...Are you mad?"

"Of course not. I'm well aware that I'm not a female."

Dean frowned at him. "I'm good, Cas, really." He leaned back in his seat, studying Cas' face. If Cas was willing to share him... well, he'd probably be more than willing to try the things Dean had been thinking about. "I mean... I- I won't lie, maybe there are more things I'd like to try in the bedroom, but-" His eyes flicked to the rest of the diner. "Maybe this isn't the best place to have that conversation." He chewed his bottom lip. "And they have nothing to do with girls."

Cas simply nodded. He wasn't sure what Dean was talking about, but he was happy that Dean was at least willing to be open with him. Dean had come a long way in the two years they'd been together, and he was thankful for that. He wrapped his fingers around his coffee mug, lifting it to his lips and taking a small sip.

They were on their way to Kansas for Christmas at the Novaks. It was a thirteen hour drive in good weather, and it was snowing on and off across their route, so they'd left at four am in order to arrive in Lawrence by seven. It was too early for breakfast when they left, but it was seven am now. The sun still hadn't come up yet, but behind Dean, Cas could see the snow falling outside in the light pouring onto the street from the Kentucky diner.

The waitress re-appeared with their food, setting it down on the table. "Here ya go, boys. Let me know if you need anything else."

"Thank you," Cas said, giving her a smile. Dean just nodded, keeping his eyes affixed to the coffee in his mug as she turned and walked away. When she was out of earshot, Cas lowered his voice and spoke again. "You can look, Dean. I wasn't upset that you were looking. Really."

Dean raised his eyes. "Are you sure?"

"I wouldn't say it if I wasn't."

Dean nodded and picked up the syrup, squirting a generous amount onto his pancakes as Cas picked up his fork and began poking at his eggs. "So are you excited to see your parents?" he asked, changing the subject.

Cas shrugged. "Yeah. It's been a while. Especially since I've seen my dad. I haven't seen him since we moved a year and a half ago."

"I think I'd be happy if I never saw my dad again for the rest of my life," Dean said nonchalantly around a mouthful of pancakes. Cas nodded and they fell into a comfortable silence as they ate their breakfast, Cujo lying quietly beneath the table.

* * *

"Thank god we're finally here," Dean groaned.

"I know," Cas agreed, turning onto the street his parents lived on.

"I know at first I protested about you getting this car, but it actually handled the snow pretty well."

Cas smiled. "Told you." He'd gotten himself a Subaru, the snow being one of the main reasons. "And it beats putting more mileage on the Impala. Now you can only use it for your appointments and stuff."

Dean nodded, although the thought of retiring the Impala to a mainly leisure vehicle made him a little sad. It was only until he got himself a job though, and then he was going to use it regularly again. Cas pulled into the driveway and stopped the car, looking over at Dean. "Nervous?"

"A little."

Cas offered him a sympathetic smile as he killed the engine. "Don't be."

"Is your Uncle here?"

Cas frowned. "I think so. But I doubt he's going to say anything again. If he does, _I_ will say something." Dean nodded again. He twisted around in his seat to take Cujo's vest off, dropping it onto the backseat. "What are you doing?"

"I don't exactly feel like advertising that I'm fucked up."

Cas nodded. They exited the car, each grabbing their overnight bags as Dean leashed up Cujo. They made their way through the snow to the front door. There weren't any decorations outside, but they could see the shine of multi-colored lights pouring out onto the snow-covered lawn from the living room window. Cas raised his fist and knocked on the door.

It opened momentarily, and Gabe was standing in the doorway. "Cassie!" he said loudly, pulling Cas into a tight hug.

"Hello, Gabriel," Cas responded flatly, his voice muffled into Gabe's shoulder.

Gabe released him and extended his hand to Dean. "Hey, Dean-o. Long time no see."

Dean gave his hand a firm shake. "How've you been?"

"Never better," he replied, although Dean sensed a hint of sarcasm. "All of the Novaks under one roof. I'm overjoyed." Cas snorted and Gabe shot him a grin. "So who's this handsome fella?" he asked, looking down at the dog.

"This is Cujo," Dean said, glancing down at Cujo. Upon hearing his name, Cujo looked up at him.

"Like from that movie? Is he dangerous?" Gabe joked.

"Of course not," Cas said. "Unless you are a stuffed toy."

"Then he's downright deadly," Dean added, nodding solemnly.

Gabe reached down to give Cujo a pat on the head before backing up to allow them to enter. Dean unclipped Cujo's leash and bent down to remove his boots.

"A dog in boots. Adorable," Gabe commented with a smirk.

"Don't look at me. It was Cas' idea." Dean dropped his boots by the door with all of the other shoes and began untying the laces to his own as Cas kicked off his shoes. Marie appeared from the kitchen, rushing over and giving them both a hug.

"It is so good to see you both," she said happily. "You look great."

"Thank you," Cas said quietly. Dean smiled in acknowledgement but didn't say anything.

"Go get settled upstairs and then come down for dinner," she said, turning and hurrying back off into the kitchen.

Cas nodded and looked towards the living room, where more of his family was seated. He gave them a small wave, and a few of them waved back. They went upstairs, Cujo following closely behind Dean, and dropped their bags onto the floor by Cas' desk. Cujo immediately began sniffing around the bed.

"Holy shit," Dean said quietly, looking around the room. "Lotta memories here."

"Definitely," Cas agreed with a nod, removing his coat and draping it over his desk chair. Dean hung his on the hook on the back of the door before taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Cas closed the space between them, standing between Dean's knees and leaning down to kiss him. He straightened back up. "Do you want to smoke before we go back downstairs?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah. I really gotta piss though."

Cas nodded and sat down at the desk, leaning over to rummage through his bag for his weed. Dean stood up and exited the room, going down the hallway and into the bathroom. As he was urinating, he noticed a scale tucked between the toilet and the counter. He worried his lip between his teeth. He was well aware that he'd continued gaining since leaving rehab, but he wasn't sure how much. He definitely wasn't fitting into what he'd dubbed his "normal" clothes anymore.

He finished up, washed his hands, and opened the door to leave, but then he hesitated. He turned around and stared at the scale for a moment. He wanted to know, and he told himself no matter what it said, he wasn't going to let it bother him. He couldn't have his cake and eat it, too. If he was going to be clean, there were going to be sacrifices. It was time he admitted to himself that the fact that they never had an abundance of food in the house was probably the only reason he wasn't overweight as a kid, too.

He exhaled a heavy sigh and stepped on, staring at the wall in front of him for a few seconds to give the scale time to register. When he looked down, he couldn't help feeling disappointed. The red dial hovered exactly half-way between two-hundred and two-ten.

Twenty pounds. He'd packed on nearly twenty pounds in the last two months since leaving rehab. "At least it's not two-thirty again," he mumbled to himself. _Give it time,_ he thought.

He was just stepping off when Cas appeared in the doorway. Dean had forgotten he'd opened the door. "What are you doing?" His eyes traveled down to the scale, then back up to Dean's face.

Dean shrugged. "Nothing. I, uh, was just curious." He paused. "What're _you_ doing?"

"I have to pee, too." Dean nodded and Cas came in, closing the door behind him. He brushed past Dean and stood in front of the toilet, unzipping his jeans and pulling his dick out. "You're not going to be upset about it all night, are you?" he asked worriedly.

"No," Dean said sincerely.

Cas finished up and tucked himself back into his pants. He quickly washed his hands and moved in on Dean, settling his hands on his waist and leaning in for a soft kiss. When he pulled back, his eyes flicked down to the scale, then back up to Dean's face. "What did it say?"

Dean pursed his lips. "Two-oh-five."

"Does that upset you?"

"A little. But it's not that big of a deal, really."

Cas gave him a small smile. "I kind of, um..." He looked down. "Enjoy watching you grow."

Dean's entire face flushed. "You're weird."

"Hey," Cas retorted, leaning his head forward to rest it on Dean's chest. "Don't call me weird just because _you_ are uncomfortable with your body."

Dean raised his arms to wrap them around Cas. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"Besides, I'm well aware it makes me weird. I am only even willing to admit it because I don't want you feeling bad about yourself."

"No, Cas, you're not weird," Dean sighed. Cas had put on maybe another five pounds tops since they left California, settling at about fifteen pounds over his normal weight. While he still wasn't overweight or even chubby by any stretch of the imagination, Dean kind of liked how he was just a bit softer now, so he guessed he understood what Cas was talking about. He suddenly realized that Cas may have been feeling self-conscious as well, and if he called Cas weird for liking _his_ body, was he implying that he didn't like Cas'? "I'm sorry I said that."

Cas didn't reply. "Let's smoke and go downstairs." Dean nodded and they pulled apart to go back to Cas' old room. Cas already had a bowl packed on the desk, and he picked it up and handed it to Dean to take the first hit.

As soon as they finished smoking, they went back downstairs, and Cas walked right over to his relatives to say his obligatory 'hello's. Many of them Dean hadn't seen at the Thanksgiving two years ago, as it was an American holiday, so none of them really celebrated it, and that Christmas, Cas' parents had flown to France. Cas brought him around and introduced him, and none of the family seemed to bat an eye that they were of the same sex. Dean got the feeling that most of the family had always known- or at least assumed, considering Cas was only seven when they moved to the US- that Cas was gay.

When they got to his Uncle, Cas just gave him a curt nod before moving on to his father. "Hi Dad."

Mr. Novak stood up and gave him a hug. "Good to see you, son. I hope things are working out."

"They are," Cas said with a smile as he pulled back.

Mr. Novak turned to Dean, extending his hand, and Dean gave it the firmest shake he could muster. "Nice to see you, sir."

"You as well." He paused, looking down at Cujo, who was standing at Dean's side. "Handsome dog."

"Thank you, sir."

"Dean, maybe we should let Cujo relax," Cas said softly.

"Of course," Dean nodded. "Uh... how?"

"Cujo," Cas said sternly. Cujo looked up at him, awaiting instruction. "Go play," he said with a wave of his hand, his tone gentle. "Go ahead." Cujo tilted his head before turning and walking off towards the rest of the family. Immediately one of Cas' younger cousins, who couldn't have been older than ten, began to fuss over him. "His commands are 'leave it' and 'lay down'," Cas announced, and a few of the older family members nodded before returning to their conversations.

"I'll be right back," Dean said quickly. Cas looked confused but nodded, and Dean slipped away and into the kitchen. "Hi Mrs. Novak."

Marie turned around and smiled warmly, wiping her hands on her apron. "Dean, you are almost twenty-two. Call me Marie now."

He smiled nervously. "Um, okay. Well, I just thought I should-" He turned his head to check the doorway. "-go into the garage. Can you keep Cas distracted for a minute?"

"Of course."

He quickly grabbed his boots and snuck off into the garage, letting out a sigh of relief at the lack of temperature change. He had been worried it wouldn't be warm enough, but Marie had assured him that the garage was heated. He flicked on the light and spotted a small pen in the corner, set up in the shape of an octagon. He walked over to it and bent down over the fencing. Nestled in a giant fluffy bed, which was way too big for it, was a small fluffy puppy.

"Hey," Dean said softly. It slowly opened its eyes and yawned. "Do you want to go outside?" It ran over to the edge of the pen and he bent down to pick it up. He went out the side door, and there was a shovel leaning up against the side of the house. With his free hand, he quickly shoveled a rectangle and set the puppy down. It immediately peed and pooped before waddling back to Dean and grabbing his bootlace between it's teeth.

"I'm sorry, but we can't play right now," Dean said apologetically, bending down to pick it up. "I can't risk daddy coming to look for me. After tomorrow though you'll get plenty of attention. I promise." He rubbed it's head and brought it back inside. Marie had left a towel draped over the edge of the pen fencing, so he grabbed that and dried the puppy off before setting it back down in the bed. He quickly changed out the soiled pee pads from earlier and put down fresh ones. "I'll be back later," he promised, before clicking off the light and exiting the garage.

Cas was going to be so happy.

* * *

Dinner was winding down. Cas had gotten a second plate, but had barely touched it. He was having a conversation in French with his Aunt as Dean finished up his second plate, watching the conversation curiously. Cas' Aunt excused herself, picking up her and her husband's empty plates, before heading into the kitchen to help Marie clean up. As Dean scraped the last of the food off his plate, Cas picked his up and placed it on top of Dean's empty one.

"Jeez, Dean-o, can you even fit any more?" Gabe commented with a smirk, leaning back in his chair.

Cas shot him a glare. "Ferme là."

Gabe's eyes widened and he frowned at Cas. "Calme toi, Cas." He rolled his eyes. "It was a joke."

"Well it wasn't funny," Cas grumbled.

"Cas, it's fine," Dean said around a mouthful of food. He swallowed and added, "Really." He turned his gaze to Gabe and grinned. "And yes, I can fit plenty more. Always gotta leave room for pie." It certainly hadn't escaped his attention the way Cas had been watching him like a hawk during the entire meal, and he intended to make it worth his while. He hadn't originally planned on a third plate, but now he had a point to prove.

He finished just in time for Marie to serve dessert. He didn't know much about French desserts, so he entrusted Cas to fix his plate. Cas put a slice of apple pie (which was very different from American apple pie), something Cas said was called _Tarte Tatin_ , also similar to apple pie, but caramelized, and an _eclair au chocolat_ \- or, a chocolate eclair, on his plate. On his own plate, Cas had chocolate mousse and two of something he called c _anelés_.

Once Dean finished, Cas still had one _canelé_ left. Most of the family had made their way back into the living room, and Cas was busy talking to Gabe; it didn't look like he was going to finish. "Cas, can I try that?" he asked, reaching over towards Cas' plate.

Before Cas could even stop to think, he had gently slapped Dean's hand away. Dean stared at him wide-eyed, and Cas instantly turned red. " _Merde_ , sorry. It's just-" He lowered his voice. "It has rum in it."

"Oh," Dean said softly. "It's okay." The truth was, it was more than okay. It actually kind of turned him on when Cas slapped his hand away like that.

"I can get you something else," Cas said apologetically. "Are you still hungry?"

"No," Dean answered. He was positive he couldn't eat another bite, and he'd actually had trouble finishing his own dessert. "I just wanted to try it. It's okay."

"Christ, Cas, you can't let the man make his own decisions?" Gabe said, rolling his eyes.

Cas narrowed his eyes. "I'm sure you've been well informed of the situation," he said flatly.

"It's not like he's actually drinking-"

"No, he's right," Dean piped up. "I'm only two months out. I'd rather not even taste alcohol." It had been hard enough watching the entire family having more than their fill of wine all night. It was best if he didn't push his luck.

Cas smiled smugly at Gabe before turning back to Dean. "I don't know about you, but I would like a cigarette."

Dean nodded and Cas collected their plates to deposit them in the kitchen. When he came back, he nodded towards the stairs, and Dean followed him up. He laid back on the bed and lit a cigarette, gingerly placing a hand on his stomach.

"I think I overdid it," he groaned.

The corner of Cas' mouth twitched as he attempted to hide a smile. "I would say so." He sat down next to Dean on the bed.

"I took your brother's comment as a challenge," he sighed, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. He took a slow drag off his cigarette.

"Probably not a good idea," Cas chuckled.

"Tell me about it." Cas reached out and set his hand on Dean's stomach, gently rubbing in small circles. "Not gonna lie," Dean sighed, "that feels awesome."

Cas smiled. "Once we're done smoking I do have to go downstairs and help my mom with the dishes, though."

Dean nodded. He really didn't want to move, but he had to go feed the puppy dinner and let him outside while Cas was distracted.

For the last two months, he'd been casually asking questions about this 'second dog' that Cas wanted, and he'd gotten out of him that he wanted a small breed and had been considering a Pomeranian- "because they look like little foxes". Some research on responsible breeders, a phone interview with the breeder, and a few phone calls to Marie later, and Marie had the puppy waiting for them for Christmas morning. He swore he'd pay her back, but she insisted it wasn't necessary. Dean just hoped Cas was going to be as excited as he thought he was.

* * *

The next morning, Dean was up by six-thirty. On his way to the bathroom to shower and brush his teeth, he could hear the rest of the family downstairs, talking in French over coffee. He showered quickly but thoroughly, and was back in bed by seven, locking Cas' bedroom door behind him. He dropped his towel and got back underneath the blanket, wrapping his arm around Cas and nuzzling his face into the back of his neck to wake him for the first part of his present.

Cas stirred, feeling Dean's erection pressed up against his ass. "Good morning," he murmured.

"Merry Christmas, Cas."

Cas rolled over to face him, bringing one hand up to cup Dean's cheek and giving him a sleepy smile. "Merry Christmas, Dean."

Dean leaned in to give him a soft kiss. "I have a surprise for you."

"And what is that?" Cas asked sleepily, letting his hand fall away.

"I wanna bottom."

Cas' eyes widened as he stared into Dean's. "Are... are you sure?"

Dean worried his bottom lip between his teeth and nodded. "Yeah. I've been thinking about it for a long time. Just-" He swallowed. "Go slow. It's been nine months since I..."

"Of course," Cas said quickly, and Dean could tell he was trying not to seem too eager. "Do- do you want to smoke first?"

"Um... maybe just one hit, yeah."

Cas tossed the blanket off and pushed himself out of bed, walking around the foot of the mattress and to the desk. He packed a small bowl and took a hit before holding it out to Dean. Dean took a large one and passed it back, holding it in as long as possible before it came out with a few coughs. Cas set the bowl back down on the desk and stood up, crawling onto the bed over Dean. He lowered himself down so their chests were pressed together, taking Dean's lips in his own. They kissed for a few minutes, until Cas pulled away to trail his lips down Dean's neck, down his chest, and down his stomach.

When he'd crawled back far enough, he took the tip of Dean in his mouth, sucking lightly and swirling his tongue around the head. Dean closed his eyes, releasing a drawn-out sigh. Then Cas was kissing his inner thigh, slowly, before nosing his balls.

"Just tell me if you want me to stop, alright?"

"Okay," Dean breathed.

Cas pressed his thumbs into his cheeks, spreading them apart, before licking a slow stripe over his entrance and up his perineum. Dean didn't flinch or tense, so he continued, pushing his tongue in and out slowly. After a few minutes of this, Dean cleared his throat. "You can use your fingers, Cas."

Cas lifted his head and knitted his eyebrows together. "Are you sure?"

Dean nodded. He'd been prodding around down there lately in the shower, mentally preparing himself. He was pretty sure he was ready. Cas scrambled off the bed to grab the lube from his bag. He kneeled back down in front of Dean, drizzling a bit over his fingers and dropping the container onto the bed. He pressed one finger to the muscle, studying Dean's face for any sign of discomfort, but Dean wasn't showing any. He pushed in and Dean's lips parted as he pushed out a sigh, but that was it.

Cas' heart was pounding with anticipation in his chest. It had been so, so long since he'd been inside Dean. Nearly a year. "Can I add another one?" he asked carefully. Dean nodded, so he did, slowly twisting his wrist and tugging on the rim. He leaned down to kiss Dean's inner thigh, and then he took Dean in his mouth again, stroking what wasn't in his mouth with the other hand, to distract Dean from the sensation as he twisted his wrist and spread his fingers.

A few minutes passed before he pulled off of Dean and removed his fingers. "Are you ready?"

"I think so, yeah," Dean said quietly. Cas nodded and picked up the lube again, drizzling a good amount onto his cock and stroking quickly. He leaned forward, dick in hand, pressing the tip against Dean's entrance.

"Please tell me if you want me to stop."

"Just do it Cas, you're psyching me out," Dean whined.

"I'm sorry," Cas said quickly. He pressed in farther, and Dean's face scrunched up momentarily until Cas' head cleared the muscle. Cas paused for a brief moment before slowly pushing in, inch by inch, until he bottomed out. He pushed out a breath and stilled to give Dean time to adjust. Dean's lips parted and he let out a long sigh as he relaxed around him. Cas lowered himself down onto him, taking his lips in his own in a soft kiss. "I love you, Dean."

"I love you, too," Dean murmured into his mouth.

Cas pulled back about half-way and slowly pushed his hips forward again, earning himself a low moan from Dean. He continued at that pace, lowering his head to kiss and suck on Dean's neck.

"You can go harder, Cas. It's fine, it doesn't hurt, I swear," Dean said.

Cas didn't lift his head, but he picked up the pace. "Fuck," he hissed, teeth gritted, "You feel _so_ good. I missed being inside of you."

"I missed it too," Dean sighed.

Cas leaned back and wrapped his arms under Dean's waist, lifting him up a bit and thrusting in farther, until he was hitting Dean's prostate over and over. Dean moaned beneath him, until he was getting a bit too loud, considering Cas' entire family was downstairs. Cas remembered the conversation they'd had in the car after they'd left the diner, where Dean had basically admitted to being a submissive and wanting Cas to be more pushy and dominant. He wasn't sure if this was the right time, or even the right thing to do, but he dropped Dean's hips back down and leaned forward, clasping his hand firmly over Dean's mouth. "Shh shh."

Dean's eyes flew open but he seemed to like it, so Cas used his free hand to take Dean's neglected cock in his hand, jerking in time with his thrusts. Dean groaned behind his hand, squeezing his eyes shut, and then he was clenching around Cas, coming hard onto his chest. Everything in Cas locked up, and he let go of Dean's dick to plant his hand on the bed, lowering his head and coming into Dean with a loud grunt.

He pulled his hand away from Dean's mouth and slowly pulled out, collapsing onto his stomach next to him on the bed. "Holy fuck," he panted. He shifted onto his side to face Dean, and Dean turned his head to meet him for a kiss. "Thank you."

"Thank _you_ ," Dean murmured. "For taking your time with me. I'm sorry you had to wait so long."

"Don't apologize, Dean," Cas said softly. "I never want to hurt you."

They laid in bed for a few minutes before Dean pushed himself away. "I'm gonna clean up quick." Cas nodded, and Dean left and returned within five minutes. He got dressed and told Cas to go shower and meet him downstairs for his present.

Cas looked confused. "That wasn't my present?"

"It was, but that's not all I got you," Dean said with a smile. He left the room and went downstairs, Cujo following close behind. Dean nodded at Cas' family before realizing they may have heard them getting it on upstairs. Probably not, over the Christmas music and Cas covering his mouth, but it still gave him a small thrill to know that it was a possibility. He ducked his head, grabbed his boots, and went into the garage. Cas' mom had already fed the puppy and took him outside, so he only had to take him outside again. Cujo ran up to the pen, sniffing the puppy through the fencing and lowering himself into a play bow. The puppy let out a small bark.

Dean shushed him before reaching down to pet Cujo. "That's your new brother, Cujo. Don't get him too riled up, we can't have Dad hearing him in here." He picked up the puppy and went out the side door. Cujo tried playing with the puppy, but Dean sternly told him to _go potty_. Cujo gave him a sad look, then wandered off into the snow as the puppy squatted to pee. When they were done, Dean brought them back inside and dried the puppy off before placing another towel in the bottom of the wrapped gift box. He set the puppy inside and picked up the top, also wrapped and sporting a large bow, and placed it on top. "Sorry it's dark, buddy, but you gotta be a surprise." There were large holes in the top of the box, so it wasn't entirely dark, but he couldn't help worrying that the pup would be scared. He didn't cry or whine though, so Dean kicked his boots off and carried the box into the living room, setting it down next to the tree. Just as he was about to go up and get Cas, he appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

He said his greetings to the family and turned to Dean, who couldn't keep the grin off his face. Before he could speak, Cas' mom cleared her throat. "Castiel will be opening his present first, as it is time-sensitive, and then the rest of us can get started," she announced.

Cas immediately shot Dean a confused look, but Dean only shrugged and smiled. "Go ahead," he said, nodding towards the tree. Cas made his way over, and Dean followed him and sat down on the floor, holding Cujo's collar to keep him in place. Cas peered at the boxes before finding the one front and center with his name on it. His eyes widened as he noticed the holes in the top of the box, and he immediately pulled the top off and gasped.

" _Oh mon dieu_ ," Cas breathed, reaching in and picking up the puppy. He stared at it for a split second before bringing it to his chest and turning to Dean, his eyes welling up with tears. "Thank you, thank you."

Dean could only nod, a little shocked by Cas' reaction. He'd never seen him so happy before. It was definitely a better reaction than he could have ever hoped for. One of his very young cousins shrieked, " _Un toutou!_ " from his mother's lap as the puppy squirmed in Cas' grip, before craning it's neck back to lick Cas' face.

"Does he- is it a boy? Does he have a name?" Cas asked, his attention entirely focused on the puppy.

"Yes, he's a boy. No name, I figured that was for you to decide."

Cas pulled the puppy away from his chest to stare at him for a moment before deciding, "I want to name him Theo."

"Okay," Dean nodded. "Theo it is."

Cas set the puppy down and it stared up at him for a moment before waddling over to Cujo. "Cujo, be easy," Dean warned, still holding onto his collar. Cujo inched forward to sniff the puppy, before nudging it with his nose and knocking it over. The puppy quickly got back up again and pounced on Cujo's face. Cujo pulled his head back and tilted it, looking positively shocked.

Dean glanced up to see Cas watching the interaction with the biggest smile on his face, and his heart melted at the sight. All he wanted in this life was to make Cas happy, the way Cas made him. Cas looked up and their eyes met, and Cas leaned forward, kissing him deeply.

The puppy climbed on Cujo for a few more minutes before getting tired, so Cas scooped him up and held him in his lap so he could nap as the rest of the family opened their presents. Once they were finished, Cas had a few more from Dean and his parents, but they were all items for the puppy- beds, food, toys, and a crate.

The rest of the family went into the dining room for lunch, and Cas pointed out two presents tucked behind the tree. "Aren't you going to open yours?"

"You didn't have to get me anything, Cas."

"Of course I did," he retorted with a smile, looking down at Theo sleeping in his lap. Dean got up off the floor and went around to the back of the tree, pulling out one heavy, square box, and another, lighter, rectangular box. "Open that one first," Cas said, pointing to the rectangular box. Dean did as instructed, ripping the paper off to reveal a black case. Once he got the rest of the paper off, it became apparent it was a guitar case. Too thin to be an acoustic, which meant...

He popped open the case and his eyes widened. Inside was a gorgeous, jet black electric guitar. He carefully removed it from the case, plopping down onto the floor and setting it on his lap.

"You don't have to open the other one right now," Cas said. "It's just the amplifier."

"Cas..." Dean said quietly, looking down at the guitar before bringing his eyes up to Cas' face. "You didn't have to get me this."

"Yes, I did," Cas insisted. "The acoustic wasn't cutting it anymore."

Dean grinned and shook his head. "You're the fucking best," he said, chuckling in disbelief.

"Tonight you can serenade me upstairs," Cas said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Dean snorted. "Sounds like a plan." He laid the guitar back down in the case and snapped the buckles closed. "Let's go out and have a cigarette." Cas nodded and stood up, still holding the puppy against his chest. He set him down momentarily to shrug into his jacket and put on his hat and scarf. Dean yanked his jacket on and shoved his feet into his boots, and they went out the back door and onto the back porch. It was still snowing, and Dean quickly shoveled a large square for the puppy to walk around in. Cujo jumped over the mound to wander around the rest of the yard, and they both lit a cigarette.

"Guess what today is," Cas said, exhaling a stream of smoke.

"Uh... Christmas?" Dean said, tilting his head.

Cas smiled. "No- well, yes, but... five months clean. For both of us."

"I used the morning I went in," Dean mumbled, looking down at his cigarette.

"Hmm," Cas said, furrowing his eyebrows together. "So did I. So I guess it's tomorrow. But still."

"I'm still on Suboxone, Cas," Dean said quietly.

Cas cocked an eyebrow. "So?"

"It's just a substitute. So I'm not really clean, am I?" Dean mumbled.

"Of course you are. It's not the same." Dean shrugged, and Cas moved in on him, pressing their lips together. "Don't sell yourself short. I love you."

"I love you, too." Cas pulled back and Dean smiled at the sight of Cas all bundled up in his scarf and hat. "You're adorable."

Cas' cheeks were already pink from the cold, but they darkened a bit at the compliment. "Thank you." He paused. "Are you ready for the new year?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah. I'm so ready to put all the bullshit behind us."

Cas smiled. "Me too."

* * *

"Finally we're alone," Cas sighed, putting Theo in the crate he'd set up and settling back onto the bed. Cujo jumped up and laid down at the foot of the mattress.

Dean set the amplifier down on the floor and plugged it into the wall. "Yep. And I can play for you now." He popped open the case and pulled out the guitar, looping the strap around his neck. "Uh... do you have a pick?"

Cas actually slapped his hand over his face. "Wow, I forgot picks. I'm an idiot."

"No you're not." Dean looked around the room. "You don't have any from when we lived here? For the acoustic?"

Cas peeked at Dean through his fingers. "Check the desk."

Dean rummaged through the middle drawer of Cas' desk, which was essentially his junk drawer. "Ha! Found one." He plugged the guitar into the amp and kneeled down, turning the volume to its lowest setting. He strummed a bit as he slowly increased it to a reasonable volume, and then he fiddled with the tuning pegs until he was happy with the sound. "Ready?"

Cas straightened up, looking at Dean excitedly. Dean just grinned and began strumming. "This one is courtesy of the great Billy Joel."

 _"Friday night I crashed your party, Saturday I said I'm sorry_  
_Sunday came and trashed me out agaaain_  
_I was only having fun, wasn't hurting anyone_  
_And we all enjoyed the weekend for a change_

 _I've been stranded in the combat zone_  
_I walked through Bedford Stuy alone_  
_Even rode my motorcycle in the raaaain_  
_And you told me not to drive, but I made it home alive_  
_So you said that only proves that I'm insaneeee_

 _You may be right, I may be crazy_  
_But it just may be a lunatic you're looking for_  
_Turn out the light, don't try to save me_  
_You may be wrong, for all I know_  
_But you may be right_

 _Remember how I found you there, alone in your electric chair_  
_I told you dirty jokes until you smiled_  
_You were lonely for a man, I said "Take me as I am"_  
_'Cause you might enjoy some madness for a while_

 _Now think of all the years you tried to f_ _ind someone to satisfy you_  
_I might be as crazy as you saaay_  
_If I'm crazy then it's true, t_ _hat it's all because of you_  
_And you wouldn't want me any other waaay_

 _You may be right, I may be crazy_  
_But it just may be a lunatic you're looking for_  
_It's too late to fight, it's too late to change me_  
_You may be wrong, for all I know_  
_But you may be right..."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I suck at writing fluff LOL. But anyway yeah that's it...! I'll be back in a few days with an epilogue!
> 
> Translations:  
> Ferme là - a (somewhat, as Cas still had family at the table) rude way of telling someone to shut up  
> Calme toi - a way to say "calm down"
> 
> Songs Used:  
> [Billy Joel - You May Be Right (1980)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SCtC-LoOvqs)


	84. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is! The epilogue! Oh boy. It's been six months, but we're finally here! Enjoy nearly 10,000 words of fluff and smut, sprinkled with just a tiny bit of angst.

_I've paid my dues, time after time_   
_I've done my sentence, but committed no crime_   
_And bad mistakes‒ I've made a few_   
_I've had my share of sand kicked in my face, but I've come through_

_And I need to go on and on and on and-_

The Impala rolled to a slow stop in the driveway. Dean killed the engine, cutting off the radio, and climbed out of the car, letting Cujo out behind him. He trotted to the front door and waited patiently for Dean to open it, where he greeted Theo with enthusiasm before following Dean straight to the back door. Dean let them out in the backyard and sat down in one of the outdoor chairs, closing his eyes against the warm July sun. After a few moments, he re-opened them to check on the dogs and began flipping through the mail he'd picked up on his way in. Some junk mail, a utility bill, nothing out of the ordinary- until he got to the last letter. It was addressed to Cas, hand-written. The return address was from Lawrence; someone named Bella Johnson. He stared at the envelope for a minute, wondering what it could possibly be.

It was thin, probably just a letter. But why would a woman from Lawrence be writing Cas? Lawrence was fifteen hours away, and they hadn't lived there since high school. His heart dropped as an awful thought wormed it's way into his mind- what if Cas had experimented with a girl and gotten her pregnant? It wasn't outside of the realm of possibility- he'd used protection with Lisa and it had failed. Lisa had told him, but what if this girl hadn't told Cas? He tried to push the thought away. These days it was easier to tell when certain thoughts were just a product of his anxiety. His usual method for dealing with them was to remind himself of all the reasons it was impossible- or at least unlikely. It had been ten years since they graduated; why would she be contacting him now? Maybe she couldn't locate him. No, that couldn't be right. Cas had used Facebook since they were in high school, something he had finally convinced Dean to do a few years ago. Maybe she was down on her luck and finally decided she wanted child support. Maybe she finally discovered Cas had money.

He leaned his head back and groaned. He knew he was being ridiculous, and the chances of this were slim to none, but once he got something in his head, it was hard to ignore. He figured the best way to find out would be to simply ask Cas. He pulled out his phone and sent him a text.

_'hey, do you know anyone named Bella Johnson?'_

Cas texted him back quickly. _'Not that I recall, why?'_

_'you got a letter. says she lives in Lawrence'_

Cas' response was, ' _What does it say?'_

_'idk, i didn't open it. its not addressed to me.'_

_'Open it'_ , Cas responded.

 _'im not opening your mail'_ , Dean wrote back.

_'My next class is getting here, so I have to go. But I know you, and I know it's going to bother you all day until I get home. Just open it. I have nothing to hide.'_

Dean huffed a sigh. Cas knew him too well, although he felt bad that he automatically assumed Dean was accusing him of something. He ripped open the envelope and shook his head at his stupidity. It was an invitation to their ten-year high school reunion. He texted Cas back immediately.

_'well i feel dumb. it's an invitation to our high school reunion'_

It took a few minutes for Cas to text him back. _'_ S _ee? You worry over nothing. But fuck that makes me feel old haha. Anyway, I have to go. I'll be home around 5. love you'_

 _'love you too'._ Dean shoved his phone back into his pocket and stared down at the letter. At least Cas got to bring a +1, because he sure as shit wasn't getting his own invitation. Maybe if he'd bothered to graduate... He stuffed the letter back into the envelope and stood up, whistling for Cujo and Theo. They came flying back to the patio and followed Dean inside. It was Saturday, and Singer's Auto closed early, so he hadn't eaten lunch yet. He made himself a sandwich and plopped down on the couch, pulling his phone back out and opening his Facebook app.

He searched Bella, and found a profile with a few mutual friends under the name Bella Johnson (Talbot). That explained why neither he nor Cas had recognized the name. Besides the fact that Cas didn't really know any of the 'popular' kids in the first place, she had gotten married and changed her last name since then. Dean couldn't say he was surprised, as most of the people on his friends list had gotten married by now. He took a bite of his sandwich and realized with a sinking feeling that Cas probably wanted to get married at some point. They weren't getting any younger, and they obviously weren't going to separate. This reunion was going to be full of classmates who were married or engaged and having kids, and he and Cas were going on eleven years together with nothing to show for it. Was Cas waiting for him to ask? Or did he just not care?

He dwelled on it for a little longer before turning on the TV to pass the time until Cas came home. By three-thirty, he was growing bored, and he knew Cas was going to be finishing up with his last class soon. He jumped up and hurried off to the bathroom to shower off the motor grease, feeling guilty he'd even sat on the couch in his dirty clothes. Luckily it was a short day, so he wasn't too dirty, compared to most days. After he'd showered, he went into the bedroom and laid back on the bed, taking himself in his hand and stroking himself in slow, gentle strokes. Once he was fully erect, he pulled his phone out and snapped a photo, his fingers still tightly wrapped around the base. He sent it to Cas with the caption _'hurry up and come home :('_

Cas replied quickly. _'_ O _h my. Lucky you I was stopped at a red light or I would've crashed the car'_

Dean grinned down at the phone. _'_ _hurry uppp. im waiting'_

_'I'm fifteen minutes away. You should prep yourself so I can walk in the door and slide right in and fuck your brains out'_

Dean's heart skipped in anticipation. _'yes sir ;)'_ he typed back.

Dean heard the front door open fifteen minutes later, and he waited with bated breath until Cas appeared in the bedroom of the doorway, hopping on one foot as he struggled to pull his pants off from around his ankles.

"Eager, are we?" Dean teased.

"I've had a boner since you sent me that picture," Cas said quickly, finally freeing himself from his pants and boxers and climbing onto the bed. He leaned over to press a deep kiss to Dean's lips. When he pulled away, his eyes fell upon the collar around Dean's neck, and his lips pulled into a tight smirk. He knew exactly what Dean wanted when he put that on.

"How was work?" Dean asked.

"Work," Cas shrugged, pulling his shirt off over his head. "Zoey's mom is pissing me off though," he said, leaning over Dean to retrieve the lube he'd left on the nightstand.

"Leave it," Dean said, stroking himself slowly. He'd done as Cas had instructed, and there was already plenty of lube. "Why?"

Cas leaned back. "Because she doesn't want to put in the work to train Zoey at home. She thinks I can work miracles in an hour a week," he said with a roll of his eyes. He grabbed a hold of his dick and pressed it up against Dean's entrance, dragging it back and forth to coat the head in lube, pulling a sigh out of Dean. "But enough about work." He pushed in quickly, and a ragged moan rose up from Dean's throat.

"Fuck, Cas, I've been waiting all day," he groaned.

"So have I," Cas grunted, pulling back and snapping his hips forward. He leaned forward to take the skin on Dean's neck between his teeth, sucking hard to re-darken the fading marks there as he continued to thrust into Dean. Dean turned his head to expose all of his neck to Cas, breathy moans falling from his lips. Cas pulled back, admiring the dark mark forming on Dean's skin, before pulling out and straightening up. "On your knees."

Dean immediately obeyed, flipping over onto his hands and knees and spreading his knees slightly to give Cas a good view. Cas took only a moment to admire the sight, gliding his hand over the curve of Dean's ass, before burying his dick in him again and reaching around to tug on his aching cock. His slid his other hand up and down over the small of Dean's back as he pushed his hips forward over and over again.

Dean lowered himself onto his elbows, burying his face into the pillow, moaning unabashedly. Cas let go of his dick, reaching forward and twisting his fingers into the hair on the top of Dean's head. He pulled his head back and Dean pushed himself back up onto his hands, gritting his teeth at the burning on his scalp.

"Look at me," Cas breathed. Dean craned his neck to look back at Cas out of the corner of his eye, and Cas grinned. "Fuck, you're so pretty on your knees for me like this," he sighed, looking down as he ran his left hand along the curve of Dean's ass again. "You have no idea how much I love coming home to this." He pulled back and gave it a hard slap, and Dean yelped.

"Christ, Cas..." he whined, feeling the burn spreading across his cheek. Cas released his hair, and Dean faced forward again, dropping his head and screwing his eyes shut.

Cas placed both hands on Dean's hips, driving into him relentlessly. He closed his eyes and dropped his head back. "Touch yourself, Dean."

"I'm gonna come if I do."

"I know," he breathed.

Dean dropped onto his shoulders and reached back. He took himself in his hand, jerking roughly, and in four strokes he was clenching around Cas and coming onto the sheets, his groan muffled into the pillow. Cas gripped his hips tighter, digging his fingers into the soft flesh there until he spilled into Dean. He lazily pushed his hips forward a few more times before pulling out with a sigh and releasing Dean's hips. Dean dropped down onto the mattress as Cas moved so he was next to him, collapsing onto his stomach and breathing heavily. "God, you're amazing."

Dean turned his head to face Cas, giving him a lazy grin. "Nah... you are."

Cas closed his eyes and shook his head a little in amusement. He leaned forward to kiss Dean before rolling out of bed and heading into the bathroom for a wet washcloth. When he returned, he wiped Dean down and laid down next to him again.

"Are you going to go to the reunion?" Dean asked, his voice muffled into the pillow.

"I'd like to."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not going if you don't want to go."

Dean turned his head to face him. "I kind of want to go. That's weird, right?"

"Not at all," Cas responded.

Dean was quiet, studying his face. "...So we're gonna go?"

Cas nodded. "Yes. We'll go."

.

"Ugh, remind me why we're even going to this thing again?"

"I honestly don't know," Cas replied, squinting out the passenger side window. "I guess I just think it would be interesting to see everybody."

"Yeah, a bunch of homophobes who made your life Hell. Sounds great," Dean said sarcastically, turning the wheel to pull into the parking lot of Lawrence High.

"You said you wanted to go. Besides, maybe some of them have changed," Cas said hopefully, but he didn't sound like he believed it.

"I doubt it," Dean muttered.

Cas turned to him and quirked an eyebrow. "Are you going to be this defiant all night, or do I need to put your collar on?"

"Sorry," Dean said quickly as his dick twitched in his pants. He pulled into an available spot and craned his neck towards the door, where there was a large banner welcoming the members of their graduating class. His shoulders drooped a bit. "Fuck, man, I should've brought Cujo."

"I told you," Cas said, not unkindly. "We can go get him if you want." They'd left the dogs at Cas' parents. "But you'll be okay. We won't see these people for another ten years... if we decide to come again."

"You're right," Dean said with a nod. He faced forward again and pulled the keys out of the ignition. "Let's do this." They exited the car and walked across the parking lot and up to the doors.

"Man, I don't miss this place," Dean mumbled.

Cas nodded. "Maybe this will serve as a nice reminder of how different our lives are now."

The doors were propped open, so they walked through and into the hallway. There were a few people standing in front of a table, so they stood behind them to wait to sign in. When it was their turn to step up to the table, the woman studied them for a moment, tapping her pen on the desk.

"Don't tell me," she said with a smile. "I'll remember." Finally her face lit up and she pointed the pen at Dean. "Dean! Right? ...Winchester?" Dean nodded and she flipped through her stapled papers before looking back up with a frown. "I don't see your name on here."

"Uh, yeah..." Dean cleared his throat. "'Cause I'm not on there. I'm his plus one." He pointed to Cas, who held his hand up in a small wave and forced a smile.

"Ohhh," she said slowly, turning her gaze to Cas. "I don't remember you. I'm sorry."

"It's Castiel," Cas said flatly. "Novak."

"Oh!" she said suddenly. "I definitely remember that name. You always wore that trench coat." She looked back down at the paper and checked his name off. She then located his name tag and handed it to him, before writing _DEAN_ on a blank one and handing it to Dean. "Thanks for coming. I'm Catherine by the way."

Cas pressed the name tag to the front of his shirt and gave her a smile. "Thank you, Catherine."

They walked past the table and made their way towards the gymnasium. "That was awkward," Dean muttered.

Cas didn't get a chance to respond, because as soon as they rounded the corner they- or, Dean, rather- ran straight into Lisa, who was talking on her cellphone.

"Shit, I'm sorry," Dean said quickly.

"It's okay!" she said, looking excited. "Hold on- Sorry dad," she said, focusing her attention back on her phone. "If he's not feeling well give him some of the children's ibuprofen in the medicine cabinet. I gotta go. ...Okay, love you. Bye." She hung up and turned back to Dean. "Oh my god! It's so good to see you!" She threw her arms around him and Dean carefully hugged her back. When she pulled away, she turned to Cas and did the same. "You too, Cas. How _are_ you guys?"

"We're good," Dean said with a nod, smiling down at her. "What about you? Was that your dad on the phone?"

She nodded. "I'm good, thanks. And yeah. He's home watching Ben." She paused. "Ben's my son. He's seven if you can believe it!"

"Wow," Cas said, his eyes widening a bit.

"Yeah, I see your posts about him all the time," Dean said.

She smiled sheepishly. "I forgot I even had you on there. You never post anything."

Dean shrugged. "So is your husband here?" Cas asked.

"Yeah, he's in the gym." She paused again, looking them over, and placed her hands on her hips. "You two look great." Her lips slowly spread into a smile. "Are you married yet?"

They shared a quick glance and Dean looked away as Cas cleared his throat. "Umm... no."

"Why not?" she asked, her eyebrows knitting together. "You guys know it's legal in all fifty states now right?"

Cas nodded. "We're aware."

Lisa frowned. "I- I'm sorry... That was rude of me. You guys should go inside."

They both nodded awkwardly and went around her, making their way towards the gym. "Cas, I-" Dean started. "I'm sor-"

"Don't," Cas said quickly, cutting him off. "Don't apologize. Let's just go in."

Dean nodded and ducked his head, following Cas into the gym. The large room was full of circular tables, with a large, long table at the front, full of catered appetizers and drinks. At one end were stacks of plates, and at the other, a large bowl of punch.

Dean quickly spotted Benny standing at the end of the table, talking with a tall brunette. He tapped Cas on the shoulder and nodded in his direction. Cas followed him over and Benny turned around as Dean approached.

"Dean!" he said loudly, his face cracking into a wide grin. "How ya been, brother?" He reached out to shake Dean's hand.

"Good, man, what about you?" Dean responded, letting his hand fall away as Cas appeared behind him.

"Never been better." He glanced at the woman next to him and placed his hand on her lower back. "This is my wife, Andrea."

She smiled and gave them a small wave. "Nice to meet you."

"You remember Cas, right?" Dean asked, motioning towards Cas.

Benny nodded. "How ya been?"

"I'm doing well, thank you," Cas responded.

"Man," Benny said, giving a quick glance around the room, "This is the most awkward thing I've done in a long time."

"I hear that," Dean mumbled.

"So who are you two here with? Don't tell me you still haven't settled down, Dean. Clock's a-tickin'."

"I'm here with Cas," Dean said quickly. "I didn't graduate, remember? I didn't get an invite."

"Oh yeah, that's right," Benny said thoughtfully. "So what, you left your girl at home? What about you, Cas?" he asked, turning to look at Cas.

"I don't think you under-" Cas started, but Dean cut him off by clearing his throat.

"We're here together," Dean said slowly. " _We're_ together."

Benny's eyes widened. " _Ohhh_. Well, damn... good for you," he said genuinely, raising his cup a bit in approval. "You guys always were inseparable."

Dean couldn't help but smile at that, and he glanced over at Cas, who was looking sheepish. Suddenly Cas turned his head, and without turning back, reached back to tap Dean's arm. "Look, it's Charlie!"

Dean offered Benny an apologetic smile. "I'm sure I'll see you again before the night is over," he said, and Benny gave him a nod. "Nice to meet you, Andrea." Cas made a bee-line for Charlie, and her face lit up when she spotted him.

"Cas!" She threw her arms around him. When she pulled back, she grinned at him. "I missed your face!" Her eyes flicked behind him to Dean. "Hi, Dean," she said with a smile.

He smiled back. "Hi, Charlie. How have you been?"

"So good," she gushed. She turned around, seemingly looking for someone, before turning back around. "My fiancé is around here somewhere. Her name's Dana. Anyway, I own a computer software company now! How great is that!"

"Damn," Dean said. "That's impressive."

She waved dismissively. "It pays the bills. What are you guys doing? Tell me everything! You don't post much on Facebook."

"Dean's a very private person," Cas offered, by way of an explanation. "I try to respect that."

"I'm a mechanic," Dean offered. "Cas is a dog trainer."

"We own a house in West Virginia," Cas added.

"A dog trainer? Sounds fun."

Cas shrugged. "The dogs are fun. Their owners? Not so much. But unfortunately, they're part of the package." He smiled, and Charlie threw her head back in a laugh.

"Did you guys try the food yet? It's _sooo_ good." Dean shook his head. "Go try some," Charlie said, gesturing towards the table. "Once dinner comes out they'll take it all away. I have half a mind to raid the dumpster tonight."

Cas scrunched up his nose in disgust at the thought of eating out of a dumpster, but Dean laughed. It was nothing he hadn't done before when he was homeless, and sometimes, there was actually pretty decent food to be found. Charlie excused herself to look for her fiancé and they went back to the end of the table, picking up two plates and picking through the offerings.

"Dude, fucking taquitos," Dean gasped, before grabbing some and dropping them onto his plate.

"Save room for dinner, Dean," Cas scolded, but there was no bite to it.

Dean turned to him and stared at him blankly. "There's always room, Cas."

Cas smirked. "I'm well aware, but-" He was about to make a comment about how Dean was lazy in bed when he ate too much, but Dean cut him off.

"And I lost five pounds for this stupid reunion."

Cas smiled a little wider. "So I guess you're just planning on gaining it back then?"

Dean rolled his eyes and Cas playfully elbowed him in the arm. He'd managed to keep his weight in check for the most part over the years. After he got clean, he'd hit two-forty before literally begging Cas to help him stay active and figure out how to eat healthier. In typical Cas fashion, he always put Dean's health and happiness before his own, and was immediately on board, although Dean could tell he was a little disappointed. They had started walking the dogs instead of letting them simply run in the yard, they went hiking a minimum of twice a week, and Cas taught Dean how to cook things that weren't basics or came out of a box. Cas had quickly dropped the little bit of additional weight he was carrying, but Dean had only been able to get down to one-ninety-five. Cas reminded him he had grown a good inch or so since high school, and he was probably never going to weigh what he weighed when he was eighteen. Over the years, a few pounds had slowly crept back on, but it was nothing major. He guessed he was probably at two-ten now.

He turned from the table and paused, looking across the room at all of the tables. "Are there, like... assigned seats or some shit?" he thought aloud.

"I don't think so," Cas chuckled, standing next to him with his own plate. He spotted Benny, Andrea, Charlie and another woman who he assumed was Dana sitting together, with two seats at the table still empty. "Go sit over there."

They made their way over and were greeted with smiles. "Taquitos, good choice," Charlie commented. She and Dana were sharing a place of chips and salsa.

"Right?" Dean grinned. He set his plate down and sat down as Cas settled into the seat next to him with his own food. They ate and talked for about twenty minutes before Cas stood up.

"Do you want something to drink, Dean?"

"Yeah, sure."

"I would offer you as well, but I only have two hands," he said, glancing at the rest of the table. Charlie smiled in appreciation and Benny lifted his cup a bit to show he was good- he already had a drink. Cas left and returned momentarily with two cups of punch, sitting down and handing one to Dean.

"Thanks," Dean said, lifting it to his lips and taking a sip. His eyes widened and he immediately spit the sip back into the cup.

Benny grinned. "Damn, is it that bad?"

"Someone spiked it," Dean grumbled, setting the cup down on the table. His eyes flicked around the room before muttering, "What is this, fucking prom?"

"Are you serious?" Cas asked angrily. His eyes flicked back to his own drink, glaring at it as if it had personally offended him.

"You don't drink anymore?" Benny asked. "I would've drank it... if you didn't spit in it."

"Sorry," Dean said, shaking his head. "But yeah, no, I don't drink anymore. At all. Interacts with my meds." He didn't want to explain to the entire table that he was actually a recovering alcoholic.

"You can have mine," Cas offered, sliding his cup across the table to Benny. He occasionally still partook in alcohol, as it was never a problem for him, but he didn't do it in front of Dean.

"Thanks." He turned his attention back to Dean. "Damn, that sucks," he said sympathetically. He studied Dean for a moment, his mouth turning downward in a frown. "Meds for what? ...If you don't mind me asking."

Dean hesitated. Anyone else, he would be pissed that they asked. But he and Benny had been pretty good friends in high school, so he figured Benny was probably just concerned. So instead of being ashamed, or letting it bother him, he smiled, pointing to his head and swirling his finger in a circle- the symbol for 'cuckoo'.

"Gotcha," Benny said with a curt nod. "The meds work?"

"Oh yeah," Dean replied, dropping his hand beneath the table and nodding quickly. "Pretty well. Nothing's perfect, but I'm doing much better than I was in high school."

"Good," Benny said with a grin. "I'm happy to hear that. I'm guessin' if you don't drink, you're, uh..."

"Yes," Dean said quickly. "Been off that shit for nine years."

Benny's grin grew even wider. "That's what I'm talkin' about, brother. Good for you."

Dean began to feel a bit uncomfortable receiving so much praise, and all eyes at the table were on him. He nodded and looked down at his empty plate, and Charlie took the opportunity to change the subject. "So, Cas, how long have you been training dogs?"

"Seven years."

"He's a friggin' miracle worker," Dean piped up. "He trained our shepherd with no experience, so once he went to school, all bets were off. He's the best damn trainer in the state."

Cas smiled shyly. "Thank you, Dean."

"Maybe you could give us some advice," Andrea said. "Our dog is _so_ unruly."

They spent the next twenty minutes discussing dog behavior and training while Dean just watched Cas speak. He loved listening to him talk about his passion. Cas loved turning dogs around, improving their relationships with their owners and ultimately keeping them from being re-homed or sent to a shelter. Eventually the conversation steered towards their dogs, and as Cas talked about Cujo and Theo, Dean couldn't stop staring. He loved the way Cas' entire upper body jerked forward when he laughed really hard, how all of his teeth showed and his eyes crinkled just slightly at the edges. He'd never pictured himself growing old with anyone, and maybe it was a little too early to consider it that, but he'd known Cas for half of his life by this point, and in a few months, he was going to be thirty. He never thought he'd make it this far, but here he was, with Cas by his side.

"You okay over there Dean?" Charlie giggled.

"What?" Dean said quickly, snapping his head away from Cas to look at Charlie.

"Those were heart eyes if I've ever seen 'em," Dana said, smiling sweetly.

Dean felt his entire face heating up as Cas took his hand beneath the table.

"Busted," Benny chuckled. "It's okay. Andrea catches me staring at her like that all the time." He turned to his wife. "Right, babe?"

Dean smiled until Cas pulled his hand away to place his elbows on the table and lean forward. "So when did you guys get married?"

"Four years ago," Andrea replied.

"Our wedding is next summer!" Charlie piped up. "You all should come."

"That sounds fun," Cas said with a nod.

Dean leaned in to speak in his ear. "I gotta go to the bathroom. I'll be right back." Cas nodded and Dean stood up, striding across the gym and out into the hallway.

He made his way to the nearest men's room and splashed his face with cold water. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Everybody was either married or getting married and he and Cas had been together longer than any of them. Why hadn't Cas ever said anything? Did he not want to get married? He leaned back against the wall, tilting his head back against the brick, and tried to steady his breathing. He stiffened when he heard the door opening, but he relaxed slightly when he realized it was Cas.

"Hey. You okay?"

"Yeah," Dean mumbled. "You didn't have to leave."

Cas shrugged. "I just wanted to check on you. Even I'm getting a little overwhelmed, and I know you don't have Cujo, so I thought you might need your service human."

Dean smiled as Cas moved forward and wrapped him in a tight hug. Dean lifted his arms to hug him back, and they stood like that for a moment as his heart rate slowed again. "Mmm, thank you Cas."

Cas pulled back just enough to look into his eyes. "Any time." He leaned in and kissed him softly. They quickly pulled their faces apart to the sound of the bathroom door swinging open, hitting the wall behind it with a loud _bang_.

A balding man stumbled in, making his way over to the urinals. He set his flask down on top of it and unzipped his jeans, leaning his head back and sighing in relief as he urinated. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Dean and Cas, frozen in place by the sinks.

" _You two_ ," he grumbled, turning a bit and pissing on his shoe. "Shit," he mumbled, turning back to face the urinal. "What the hell're you doin' in here?"

Cas raised an eyebrow. "Um, using the bathroom?"

"Still have a smart mouth, I see, eh Cassie?" Cas narrowed his eyes, but before he could speak the man continued. "There ain't no glory hole in here, y'know. This's a institution of learnin'." He shook off and they could hear him pulling up his fly.

"How do you even know what a glory hole is?" Cas retorted.

"The fuck did you say to me?" he snapped, spinning around and almost losing his balance.

"Wait a minute, are you the asshole that spiked the punch?" Dean asked.

"No," he muttered. "I ain't sharin' my booze with nobody." He squinted at them for a moment. "What are you starin' at? Did you get a nice view?"

"No one is staring at your dick, dude, trust me," Dean muttered.

"Yeah, I'm sure you two fags just hang out in public bathrooms for kicks," he slurred.

"You might wanna shut your drunk-ass up," Dean growled, "before you get hurt."

"Oh, what, you gonna kick my ass again, Winchester?" he laughed, swaying slightly.

"Wait a minute... Derek?" Cas asked, his mouth falling open a bit.

Derek held his hands out at his sides. "In the fuckin' flesh."

"Wow, you're a mess," Dean commented, scoffing to himself in awe.

"Oh fuck you," Derek spat. "At least I don't take it up the ass."

"Fuck this," Dean muttered, shaking his head and turning to leave. "Come on, Cas."

"You mean _Cassie_? He _is_ the girl, right? I mean, one of you's gotta be." He chuckled to himself.

"I really think you should stop talking," Cas warned.

"Or what? Are you gonna give me a makeover?" Derek said condescendingly. His eyes flicked back to Dean, and they lingered on him for a little too long.

Dean suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable. He glanced at Cas, and he could see the anger in his eyes. "Cas, let's go." They turned towards the door when Derek spoke again.

"That's what I thought, you faggots ain't gonna do shit."

Before Cas could even process what was happening, Dean spun around and flew up on Derek, grabbing the front of his jacket and slamming him into the wall. Derek's head hit the painted brick with a smack, and Dean leaned in, nearly nose-to-nose with him. "Guys like you used to pay guys like me to fuck them into a dirty hotel mattress," he growled, staring into his eyes. Derek looked positively terrified. "Yeah, you think I don't know?" Dean continued. "I can tell by the way you look at me. You're not disgusted with me, you're disgusted with yourself. But that's a _you_ problem, buddy. So I suggest you watch your fucking mouth before I ensure you can never put your dick in anything ever again. Because I will break it the fuck off."

He released Derek's jacket and took two steps back before spinning around and heading for the door. "C'mon, Cas."

Cas stared at Derek, wide-eyed, for a brief moment before hurrying out the door after Dean. As the door swung closed behind them, Cas reached out and touched Dean's arm. "Dean-"

Dean stopped, but didn't turn around, staring down at the floor. "I- I'm sorry. I just-"

Cas gripped his arm and spun him around to face him. "Dean, don't apologize. It's okay."

Dean lifted his eyes to look up at Cas. "No, it's not." He looked away again. "I'm supposed to have my anger under control."

"Fuck him," Cas said quickly, and Dean looked up again in surprise. "He obviously didn't learn his lesson last time, or at any point in the last decade. Maybe calling him out is what he needed."

"What if he calls the cops?" Dean asked quietly.

Cas shrugged. "What proof does he have? He's drunk off his ass and no one saw anything." He lowered his voice. "Except me. And I know you don't like to switch the dynamic very often, but... fuck..." He took a shaky breath. "That really turned me on, Dean."

A smile appeared on Dean's lips. "Yeah?"

"Yes. I miss you taking charge."

Dean looked around quickly, and they were alone in the hallway. He grabbed Cas' hand and tugged him down the hallway and around the corner.

"Where are we going?"

Dean didn't answer. He rounded another corner to the staircase and led Cas upstairs. He located a utility closet and opened the door, standing back and gesturing for Cas to enter. Cas stared at him blankly for a moment, but Dean wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, so Cas brushed past him and into the closet. Dean followed him in and clicked the lock behind him. When he turned around, he looked at Cas like he wanted to devour him. It sent a shiver down Cas' spine.

Dean moved in on him, pushing him up against the shelving unit and crashing their lips together. Cas' eyes widened momentarily before closing as he melted into the kiss. Dean took his bottom lip between his teeth, then forced his tongue in, reveling in the taste of Cas. He carded his fingers through Cas' hair, gripping the roots tightly. Without breaking the kiss, he reached down to pop open the buttons to Cas' shirt. Once they were open, he brought his hand down further to palm Cas' hardness through his jeans. He unbuckled Cas' belt, opened the button, and slid them down, before ripping his own shirt open, undoing his own jeans, and sliding them down as well. He took them both in his hand, tugging roughly. Cas moaned into his mouth, then broke the kiss to tilt his head back. Dean brought his left hand up to grip the hair on the back of Cas' head and latched onto his neck, taking the skin where his neck met his shoulder between his teeth. He used his thumb to spread the precome around, and then he pulled back and pushed down on Cas' head.

Cas immediately dropped to his knees and took Dean into his mouth. Dean let his head fall back, groaning up towards the dim light bulb barely illuminating the closet. Cas bobbed up and down for a minute or two, stroking what didn't fit into his mouth, before popping off and grabbing Dean's wrist. He took his fingers into his mouth, coating them in a generous amount of saliva. He pulled off and stood up, leaning back against the shelving, and Dean reached down between his legs. Cas hiked up one leg as far as he could with his pants still around his calves as Dean plunged one finger into his hole. He leaned forward and captured Cas' lips in his own again, rolling their tongues together as he pressed a second finger in, twisting his wrist and scissoring his fingers. Cas broke their kiss and gasped, his back arching when Dean's finger grazed over his prostate.

Dean removed his fingers and grabbed his dick, tugging lazily. "Get it nice and wet for me again."

Cas again dropped to his knees, taking all of Dean's length into his mouth and slobbering all over it. When he pulled away, he straightened back up and Dean took himself in his hand as Cas cocked his leg again. Dean lowered his head, slowly spitting down onto himself for good measure. He didn't want to hurt Cas. He pressed himself up against Cas, pushing the head in as Cas' breath hitched. Once it was in, he pushed in as far as he could go before he had to grab Cas beneath his ass and lift him up, squeezing the soft flesh there and pressing him back against the shelves. He pressed in farther until he bottomed out, as Cas let out a low, drawn-out moan. Dean began sucking on his neck again, pulling out and slamming back in. A strangled cry escaped Cas' throat as Dean snapped his hips forward again and again, driving himself as far as possible into Cas as the items behind him rattled on the shelves.

"Oh god," Cas choked out. "Fuck. _Fuck_." His cock was trapped beneath their stomachs, and he could feel it pressing into Dean's soft flesh with every thrust. His heart was pounding in his chest and his vision was getting hazy. "Dean, I- I'm gonna-" He groaned loudly as he spilled between them, but Dean didn't stop. He continued driving into Cas as Cas' head lolled back, eyes shut tight, his spent dick sliding through the come between them with each thrust.

Dean's thrusts became erratic as he bit down onto Cas' neck. Suddenly he let go, springing back and taking his cock in hand, jerking roughly. Cas dropped down and opened his mouth, and Dean pushed his hips forward so just the tip was touching Cas' lips, throwing his head back with a stuttered groan as he came onto Cas' tongue.

He brought his head forward again just in time to see Cas' tongue come out to swipe a bit of come off of his upper lip. Dean closed his eyes, breathing heavily as Cas pushed himself up on shaky legs. He leaned back on the shelving, chest heaving, and looked around the dimly lit room. "Please tell me there are paper towels in here."

Dean gave a quick look around before spotting a few rolls above Cas' head. He reached up and pulled one down. "Here. They're the shitty school kind... that's basically paper... but it'll have to do," Dean panted.

Cas ripped a bit off of the roll and handed it back to Dean before shoving his hand between his legs. Dean ripped off a decent amount and bunched it up, swiping the come off of his stomach. Cas took more and cleaned his own stomach off before tossing it into the janitorial garbage can and hiking his pants back up.

"Fuck, I wish we could've done this shit in high school," Dean sighed, dropping his own bunch of paper towels into the garbage can.

"Me too," Cas agreed, re-buttoning his shirt as Dean pulled up his boxers and jeans.

Dean re-did his own shirt and then unlocked the door, opening it a crack to peek out into the hallway. It was clear, so he gave Cas a nod and they exited into the hallway and hurried back towards the stairs. Cas took his hand and Dean looked over to see him grinning. His hair was a total mess- and god, Dean always lost it for Cas' post-sex hair- his lips were red and slightly swollen, and his cheeks were tinged pink. A nice bruise was darkening on the base of his neck, barely hidden by the collar of his shirt. They reached the bottom of the stairs and rounded the corner, making a bee-line for the bathroom. They washed their hands and Cas splashed his face with cold water. He straightened his shirt in the mirror, re-tucked it into his pants, and ran a wet hand through his hair, attempting to get control of it. When he deemed himself presentable, Dean leaned forward to press a quick kiss to his lips, and they left the bathroom to go back to the gym.

As they approached the table, Benny smirked over at them. Charlie, upon seeing his expression, spun around. "Where have you guys been? You've been gone for twenty- _Oh my god_." As they neared their seats, she covered her hand with her mouth to stifle a giggle, and Cas gave her a small smile, raising a finger to his lips in a _shh_ gesture.

"Well you almost missed dinner," she said.

"Well thank god I didn't miss that," Dean said, wide-eyed. Next to him, Cas chuckled and shook his head. Dean leaned in and whispered, "Because I sure worked up an appetite." He met Cas' eyes when he pulled back.

Cas' face flushed again and he looked away as Dean took his hand beneath the table.

Dinner came and went, and they got Benny, Andrea, Charlie, and Dana to squeeze into the Impala and smoke a joint with them once the reunion was over. Afterwards, they headed back to Cas' parents, where they were staying, since Marie and James were again in France. Cujo and Theo were happy to see them, and after dinner and a walk, the four of them settled back onto Cas' old bed.

"Thanks for making me go, Cas," Dean said quietly, his face buried in the crook of Cas' arm. Even though he'd said he'd wanted to, it was mostly because he knew _Cas_ had wanted to, and as the reunion had drawn closer, he'd been growing increasingly nervous.

"You're welcome," Cas said, stroking Theo, who was curled up on his lap. "Thank you for coming. I would've hated to go alone. I probably wouldn't have gone at all." He paused. "You know that stuff you said to Derek?"

Dean didn't lift his head. He really hoped Cas wasn't going to bring up the _guys have paid me to fuck them_ thing, because fuck, had he regretted saying that. "...Yeah?"

"He really looked at you like that?"

"Sometimes. Back then I just thought he had a problem with me because I hung out with you. But then in the bathroom, I saw him trail his eyes down and lick his lips. I don't even think he realized he did it, I think it was subconscious or something, but I felt kind of... violated. Especially after all the shit he's said."

Cas tightened the arm he had around Dean's shoulders. "I'm sorry."

Dean shrugged. "Don't be." He lifted his head to look into Cas' eyes. "It led to awesome sex, right?"

Cas cracked a grin. "Yes. Yes it did." He reached over to snuff his cigarette out in the ashtray on his desk, and Dean straightened up to do the same. "We should get some sleep. We've got a long drive home tomorrow."

Dean nodded, tilting his head to press a chaste kiss to his lips. "I love you."

Cas lovingly looked down into his eyes. "I love you too, Dean."

* * *

Cas slowly pushed himself up off of the couch, wincing at the pain that radiated down from his spine. He was going to have to talk to his doctor about trying a different pain medication- the Percocet just wasn't working like it used to. He made his way to the front door and opened it to find Sam and Jess standing on the doorstep. Their two dogs rushed inside and immediately began playing with Grace and Lola in the living room. Their two daughters, Mary, eleven, and Ellie, six, threw their arms around Cas.

"Uncle Cas!" Ellie said excitedly.

"How are you?"

She looked up at him with a large grin. "Good! Where's Uncle Dean?"

"He's in the shower. We have to leave soon."

Mary frowned, and the girls released him to take a step back. "Aww, I wish you guys could stay," Mary said sadly.

Cas smiled down at them. "I know. Maybe depending on your parents schedule you can stay for a while when we get back." He glanced up at Sam, who turned to Jess and shrugged.

"Maybe that can be arranged," he said, turning back to Cas with a smile.

After the reunion, Dean had bought a ring and proposed a few weeks later, on their anniversary- September eighteenth. For the next nine years, Cas spent every anniversary trying to convince Dean to fly to France with him. Dean had adamantly refused, but now it was their tenth anniversary, and he couldn't say no to Cas anymore. It was killing him a little bit each time, and Cas wouldn't go without him. At this point, he figured if he died on the plane, at least he'd lived a full life.

While it was only their tenth _wedding_ anniversary, it was their twenty-first anniversary together if they counted from the day they actually became a couple. Cas liked to count from the September they met, when he moved to Lawrence and met Dean in the cafeteria of the middle school. He liked to say that just because they weren't having sex doesn't mean they didn't have a relationship. Dean agreed, but he felt like he was such a repressed ass that he didn't deserve to consider those years as part of their time together. So in his book, this was their twenty-first. In Cas', it was their twenty-seventh.

Cujo had passed five years prior, and Dean had elected not to get another service dog. He'd cried for three days and they'd buried him in the backyard. Cujo had spent fifteen long years faithfully by Dean's side- although he'd been completely retired from public access by eleven, about a year after the reunion- but by then Dean felt that he had his anxiety under control for the most part. So, he let his next dog just be a dog, and nothing more. Theo had passed just a two years prior, and, being a small breed, had lived to eighteen. Cas had been crushed, but they had adopted two other dogs before Cujo had even passed, and they helped ease the pain during the difficult times. At the present moment, Sam and Jess were staying at the house to dog-sit for them.

Dean emerged from the back room, freshly showered and dressed, and the girls flew up on him.

"Hi Uncle Dean!" they said in unison.

Dean bent down to pick up Ellie, wincing slightly as he settled her on his hip. "You guys are getting big," he commented as Mary threw her arms around his waist.

Ellie giggled, burying her face in Dean's shoulder. "So are you, Uncle Dean."

Dean threw his head back with a deep laugh as Mary backed away with wide eyes, shocked at her sister's comment. Jess clasped a hand over her mouth. " _Ellie!_ " she gasped. "Be nice!"

Dean set her back down on the floor. "She's observant, I'll give her that much."

"I'm sorry," Ellie mumbled, staring down at her feet.

"Don't be," he said, reaching down and patting her on the head. "I can take a little criticism."

She smiled sheepishly, then ran back to Sam and Jess, where Mary was grabbing one of their suitcases to bring to the guest room. Dean followed her and took the other two bags, cocking his head to the side in an indication for Sam to follow.

When they arrived in the guest room, Dean set the bags down and motioned for Mary to do the same.

"Do you mind getting the rest of the stuff from the car, honey?" Sam asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Mary nodded before turning and running off. "So, Paris, huh?" Sam said with a grin. "The city of loooove."

Dean rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. "Yeah, Cas finally convinced me."

"Took him long enough," Sam snorted. "You sure you won't need an extra seat on the plane?" he teased, jabbing Dean in the stomach.

Dean swatted his hand away. "Har har. Now I see where Ellie gets it."

Sam's eyes widened. "Dude, I am _so_ sorry about that. I've never said anything like that in front of her and you know I'm only teasing 'cause you're my brother." He paused. "I think she picked it up at school."

"It's fine," Dean said, waving dismissively. He wasn't oblivious- he had to be pushing two-seventy by now. "Shes six and kids have no filter. She hasn't seen me in a year and I've put on a good thirty pounds since then." He paused. "But it doesn't bother me the way it used to. I'm forty and on three different psych meds, and Cas and I quit smoking cigarettes six months ago. It's not the end of the world." He paused again. "Now, if I hit three-hundred, we're gonna have a problem."

"You're not forty _yet_ ," Sam protested, smiling mischievously. "And good on you for quitting smoking."

"Dude, I swear if you're planning some kind of party-"

Sam threw his hands up and shook his head. Dean eyed him suspiciously before changing the subject.

"Okay, so you guys can sleep in me and Cas' room and the girls can sleep in here. Cas wrote down everything you could possibly ever need to know about the dogs. Feeding schedule, the vets number, shit like that. Come on." He turned towards the door. Sam followed him out into the hallway, past the bathroom, and into the master bedroom. "I cleared all of our shit out of the night stand. _Do not_ go snooping in the closet," he warned, pointing at Sam accusingly.

Sam wrinkled his nose. "I definitely don't want to see all of your kinky sex stuff."

"Shut up," Dean muttered. "Clean sheets and blankets and towels and all that crap are still in the same closet at the end of the hallway. Um... I think that's it. Help yourself to whatever food is here. Oh, and _don't_ feed the dogs table scraps," he added, wide-eyed. Sam nodded, wondering why Dean put so much emphasis on that, and they went back out into the living room. Cas was standing in the kitchen, pointing to a piece of paper on the counter and going over the instructions for the dogs with Jess.

"...And no snacks for Lola," Cas said. "If you're giving the rest of them snacks you can give her some baby carrots so she doesn't feel left out. She likes them. But if you give her anything else, cut back on her dinner that night. She's on a diet... because _somebody_ wouldn't stop feeding her table scraps," Cas said, turning his head to stare at Dean. Sam and Jess followed his gaze, and Dean turned to Sam.

"See? So no people food," Dean said. He spotted Lola lying on the couch. "Right Lola?" She jumped off the couch and ran over to him, dropping onto the floor and rolling onto her back. "Because you're fat like daddy," Dean cooed, reaching down to rub her belly. "But Cas is gonna fix you up. ...My bad."

"Yes," Cas said with a smirk. "Your bad." He turned back to Jess. "Anyway, please kennel them when you leave the house, and at night. We usually put them to bed by eleven but they can stay out until whenever you go to sleep. I just don't want them out unattended with your dogs if everyone is asleep. It's not that I don't trust your dogs, but dogs will be dogs and they don't live together. It's too easy for a fight to break out over something silly. Just say 'kennel' and they will both go right in."

Jess nodded. "Okay. I got it. I'll text you if I have any questions."

Cas smiled. "Thank you, Jess. I feel so much better about leaving, knowing they're with family. I don't know how any of my clients can just drop their dogs off at a boarding facility with strangers."

Jess shook her head. "I don't know, either."

Dean checked his watch. "We should get going, Cas."

"Yes," Cas agreed. "There's plenty of food in the house and there's money in this envelope-" He placed his hand down on a blank envelope on the counter "-for your troubles and any food you need or want. I know Sam has very different tastes than Dean."

"You didn't have to leave us any money, Cas," Jess said.

Cas shook his head. "I insist." He walked around the island to the living room, crouching down to say goodbye to Grace and Lola. "You girls be good for Auntie Jess and Uncle Sam. No begging, and no sneaking food from the girls!" He allowed them a moment to lick his face before straightening up and taking a step towards the door. All of their bags were already packed and loaded up into the car- all that was left was to drive to the airport.

"Thanks again guys," Dean said, straightening up from saying his own goodbyes to the dogs. "See you in two weeks."

"You better send us pictures!" Sam called from the other side of the living room.

"We will," Cas nodded, one foot out the door, "As long as you send us pictures of the dogs."

.

"Cas, I'm scared," Dean admitted quietly.

Cas offered him a sympathetic look. "Don't be, Dean. The chances of a plane going down are statistically very, very low."

Dean crossed his arms and sunk back into the uncomfortable plastic airport terminal seat. "That isn't helping."

Cas reached out and to touch his arm, and Dean uncrossed them so Cas could take his hand. "I'm sorry." Dean swallowed hard and looked out the large windows of the terminal, where luggage was being loaded onto the plane. "You're not going to change your mind, right?" Cas asked worriedly.

"No," Dean said quickly, turning back to face him. "I know how much you miss France. And I wanna see where you grew up."

Cas smiled, squeezing Dean's hand a little tighter. "And I want to show you."

"So is anybody gonna recognize you?" Dean teased. "Since your parents are so famous?"

" _Were_ ," Cas corrected. "It's been ten years since they were in anything major over there. And no," he said with a chuckle. "They moved me away from that for a reason. I'm certainly not known as 'Jimmy and Marie Novak's son'," he said, making air quotes with his free hand and widening his eyes for emphasis. "I'm just like anybody else."

"I can't wait to hear you speak French all day and night," Dean grinned.

" _I_ can't wait for you to wear your collar in public because nobody over there has any idea who we are," Cas retorted.

Dean shifted in his seat, a light blush dusting his freckled cheeks. "That too."

Cas smiled at him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. Then a voice sounded over the intercom, announcing that their gate was opening for boarding. Dean sucked in a sharp breath and they stood up, grabbing their carry-ons and joining the other passengers standing at the gate.

Once they were settled in their seats, Dean leaned his head back and closed his eyes, taking slow, deep breaths. "Man," he mumbled, opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling, "It's times like these I really wish I could have a drink to calm my nerves."

Cas reached over and took his hand. "You'll be fine," he said soothingly. "I promise."

Dean smiled weakly. "At least we're in first class, right? Just one of the perks of having a rich husband." He chuckled and winked at Cas. In all honesty, they both made good money doing what they did, so the days of Cas' parents financing anything for them were long gone. But they wouldn't be where they were today if it wasn't for Cas' parents, and Dean was well aware of that.

Cas smiled, squeezing his hand. "Happy anniversary, Dean. I love you very much."

Dean smiled back. "Happy anniversary, Cas. I love you, too." His smile turned into a grin, his green eyes crinkling around the edges. "...You fuckin' sap."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs Used:  
> [Queen - We Are the Champions (1977)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=04854XqcfCY)
> 
> I've spent the last six months of my life doing nothing but writing this story. What the hell am I going to do now? LOL. Anyway, I really hoped you guys enjoyed the ride! I sure did. I'm going to spend the next week or two revising the earlier chapters, and once I'm finished, I will be back with some author's notes (and an announcement?). And if you have any questions, or want me to expand on anything, let 'em rip, and I'll answer 'em in my notes! I hope to hear from all of you guys who have been reading! Love you, my awesome readers!


	85. Author's Notes

Revision is completed and uploaded! I didn't change much, honestly. I mostly fixed some grammar, some sentence structure, added a bit more descriptive language here and there, slightly tweaked some smut scenes, took out any redundant language, etc, in the earlier chapters.

Now for my notes...

Wow, I can't believe I spent six months writing nearly every day to complete this! I had to do a LOT of research for this. I researched road trips, towns and cities I've never been to, rehab facilities, drug use (I've used cocaine and smoked weed, never used heroin), mental illness, etc.

When I first started this, I had no idea where I was really going with it or if I was even going to continue. I never imagined it would surpass 250,000 words. After some issues with someone very close to me that took place during writing (if you were reading it as a WIP, you know already from my notes), I decided I could use this story as a platform to illustrate how devastating mental illness can be.

First, I want to thank my readers and reviewers. Without you guys, I probably wouldn't have finished this story. I personally didn't/don't think my writing is that great, so seeing words of encouragement from you all every time I uploaded a chapter was truly inspiring!

I'm honestly shocked at the feedback I've gotten, especially considering this was my first long fic, and posted as a WIP. I know many of you are wary to follow WIPs, as they often end up unfinished. For this reason, I will probably stick to posting ficlets and one-shots as I work on my next long fic. Once it's finished, I will stagger the uploads on a schedule (2-3 chapters per week).

I didn't get any questions from anyone, but I just wanted to discuss a few things about the story:

 **Reincarnation:** I know nothing came of it. Dean feeling like the roadtripping was déjà vu, the dream about Hell that they shared, a young girl named Mary saving his life, Cas being a fallen angel (the back injury, pressing two fingers to Dean's forehead) all amounted to nothing. I'm not sure how I feel about reincarnation in real life, but I know there are some people who believe it, and even find evidence that it's true. That's what I wanted to do here. As much as Dean had a feeling, nothing will ever amount to it. There's no way to ever really know, there's no way to prove it, and that's just the real, unfortunate truth. It will never be anything more than a gut feeling. (How cool would it be though if we could actually know who we were in a past life?)

 **The jump at the ending of the story:** I don't want anyone to think that after a brief 90-day stint in rehab, Dean and Cas' lives are all butterflies and rainbows. Dean continued therapy for a long time, and if I'm being honest, he is probably still going at least monthly by the end of the epilogue, at 39 years old. As medication and research changes and evolves, there would be changes to Dean's treatment and medications. Mental illness doesn't just go away, so there are still going to be bumps along the way.

This brings me to my announcement!

I plan on posting another work, made up of oneshots set in this universe. I've had many of you tell me you don't want the story to end. There are many scenes that could have been included but weren't, mainly because the story was getting really long, and I know you were all anxious to get to that happy ending. (I was too!)

I'm not sure what all of the oneshots will be, but I can tell you that there is a LOT for me to work with. I didn't write any scenes of Dean prostituting or Cas partying while Dean was gone. I would maybe like to write more scenes with Dean utilizing Cujo in public as his service dog, Dean's childhood, Dean and Cas' interactions when they first meet. There are also a lot of other things to deal with in between the last chapter and the epilogue, like John's death, and what ever happened to Alastair?! Does Dean ever relapse? How does Dean react when Sam tells him Jess is pregnant for the first time, and he's going to be an Uncle? Whatever happened to Meg?

SO, I have already uploaded the first oneshot, so that anyone who wants to can subscribe to it. It's angst, because I needed to write some after all that fluffy Christmas crap, haha. I'm not sure when the next one will be or how often they'll be posted, as I'd like to focus on other works, but there will definitely be a few over time. :) Most will be angst, some will be fluff. They will be out of order, so each chapter will have a summary explaining when they take place.

My second announcement is that my wonderful reader Hakosaki has offered to translate this fic into French! (I also want to thank her for helping me fix the French text in this story! <3) I'm honestly honored (and shocked) that anyone would want to take the time to translate 250,000 words that fell out of my brain. SHOCKED, I TELL YOU!

So, if you have any French speaking friends, they should be able to read this soon in their native tongue :)

Anyway, I guess that's all for now. Thank you guys so, so much for reading, and for all of your kind words over the last six months. It meant so much to me. Getting a review brought a huge smile to my face and I carried that praise around with me for the entire day, if not longer. I love you all so much and I'm over the moon that you all enjoyed my story so much. Here's to hoping you enjoy the next one!

As always, feel free to email me at crazyassCas@gmail.com

You can also find me on tumblr @ [casorderspizza](http://casorderspizza.tumblr.com/)

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Story originally completed 12/15/16.  
Revision completed 12/23/16  
Originally 260,851 words.  
After revision, totaled 264,244 words.


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